Shadows
by Diamondsgirl101
Summary: Two sides are fighting a war to the death, and two connected hearts are fighting wars of their own. There is no way to know who will live and who will die. But even though death is forever, sometimes love is strong enough to last beyond. BoH, AU, HP/DM
1. Part I, 1

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter *throws self to the ground and sobs*, nor the song _Shadows_! That would be the amazing J.K. Rowling and the incredible band RED :)

**A/N: First off, a special thanks to SatyrsUnite, who read this story first. You're amazing buddy, and don't you ever forget it! You've been so enthusiastic, and without you I probably would never have finished this story. Love ya! :D**

**Please don't hesitate to ask questions! I will try to answer them as best as I can! (Aka make excuses for any mistakes I KNOW I made somewhere haha…)**

**Enjoy! Reviews are VERY much appreciated! :)**

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><p>PART I<p>

_Sunset, I close my eyes_

_I pretend everything's all right_

_Drowning in anger from all these lies_

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><p>"<em>You have until midnight<em>."

The world seemed to hold its breath as the final syllable slipped from the lips of the Dark Lord and rang in the ears of those assembled to fight. There wasn't one heart that wasn't throbbing wildly, one chest that wasn't heaving with anxious breaths, one pair of eyes that wasn't taking in the faces of friends and maybe seeing them for the last time.

Draco Malfoy's gray eyes ached to see only one face, a face adorned with vibrant green eyes and a striking lightning-bolt scar.

The face of Harry Potter.

And as he stood on the edge of the castle grounds, between his mother and father and behind the wizard he had been forced to pledge his allegiance to, he could feel his hands trembling.

_Lives will be lost tonight, _he thought, biting down on his lower lip. _Please don't let his—or mine—be among them._

"Stop shaking, Draco," Lucius Malfoy snarled into Draco's ear, his breath hot and unwelcome on the latter's skin. "Now is your chance to prove yourself worthy of being part of the new age we are about to bring forth tonight."

Draco nodded in response. He didn't trust his voice not to waver. He gripped his mother's wand tighter in his fist; Harry had his own.

_I hope it protects him._

It had been so long since he had been able to even properly _speak_ to the black-haired boy he loved, but Draco remembered their last real date like it was only mere days ago, though it had been more than a year. He remembered it, and he longed to have something like that again. Just being near Harry, hearing his voice, seeing his smile, admiring his messy black hair and the glasses that framed his beautiful eyes… Draco missed him.

_I wish I was on his side._

What he wouldn't give to be free to fight shoulder to shoulder with Harry, sending curses flying and throwing one another quick yells of encouragement or brief grins of triumph when time allowed them. What he wouldn't give to be able to see the admiration in Harry's green eyes when he, Draco, took some of his former allies down.

_But I'm a bloody coward. If I had half his courage, I wouldn't be standing here beside my father. I would be with him! I would be fighting for the side I would rather fight for!_

Draco's gray eyes stared in the direction of the castle. He wished he could see through the many walls. Wished he could see the face that haunted his thoughts.

_Please don't let him die! _

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><p>Harry Potter closed his eyes, although that offered no difference from the darkness pressing upon him. He tried to even his breathing, tried to let the gentle flow of cool air reach his heart and slow its frantic beat.<p>

He was hunched over inside a tiny broom closet, trying to simultaneously fight and soothe the panic that constricted his throat like a pair of strong hands and tore at his heart with claws sharper than knives.

It would be tonight when the battle would break like a thunderstorm. Tonight when they would either fight or fall. Tonight when lives of those he loved would be put in peril, maybe even lost.

Harry's right hand gripped the hawthorn wand; his left took the folded photo from his pocket.

"_Lumos_."

As the wand-tip ignited, Harry's green eyes were able to make out Draco Malfoy's face gazing out from the confines of the photograph. He was rolling his eyes, crossing his arms, tapping his foot, looking distinctly impatient with Harry, who had taken the picture and had been so intent on capturing the perfect image of the person he so cared about that he had taken much too long to do so for that person's liking.

But Harry could see the tiny smile tugging at the corners of Draco's mouth. If he had not known the other boy as well as he did, he would have overlooked its existence.

_I haven't seen him smile in a long time. _

Harry bit his lip, suppressing emotion that welled in him as the photo-image of Draco turned his back to the camera, lifting his chin haughtily in the way that Harry remembered the flesh-and-blood Draco had been so well-known for.

Before everything changed.

Before dark circles had appeared on Draco's face, and a Dark Mark had appeared on his arm.

Before the days when even Harry could bring him little comfort.

_Are we ever going to get those times back? _Harry wondered sadly as the photo-Draco looked at Harry over his shoulder. There were no shadows marring his smooth, pale face, no strain nor misery clouding his beautiful gray eyes.

Not then, there weren't.

Harry was suddenly jerked out of his reverie by an explosion that roared in his ears like a clap of the loudest thunder. Screams shattered the air; Harry's heart leapt with fear and he spun on the spot, shoving the photo back into his pocket and extinguishing the wandlight, his heart pulsing with returned panic as he stood there in the darkness.

The battle had begun.


	2. Part I, 2

Draco could no longer remember how it felt to be unafraid.

He knew nothing but adrenaline shooting through his veins at satanic speeds, fear taking his heart in its frigid hands and letting ice slowly freeze it motionless, a numbing sensation gently, pleasantly paralyzing his limbs while whispering to him quietly.

_Don't fight us._

_We are stronger._

_Give up now._

Draco wished he could.

"Soon, Draco, I promise, we'll be in there soon! Don't worry, you'll get your chance to kill as many of them as you'd like," Lucius said from close by, stroking his wand with his thumb, a nasty smile creeping across the face that was so like Draco's own. That resemblance had once made Draco's heart swell with pride; now it just made him feel sick. How could this man be his father?

He clenched his teeth and looked away; Narcissa tried to catch his eye but he ignored her. The part of him that was still innocent wanted to voice his fears to her, but the stronger part of him, the part that was seventeen years old and standing on the edge of a soon-to-be battlefield, had the sense to be quiet.

Draco paced back and forth, moving as quietly as he could so not to anger anyone. Narcissa's pale blue eyes followed him from where she stood beside Lucius, who was surveying the castle with an eager, hungry gaze. Fenrir Greyback looked equally impatient; he repeatedly drew his tongue over his bloodstained lips as if awaiting the taste of future victims. Bellatrix Lestrange looked fired up and raring to attack; her dark eyes were blazing with such an insanity, such a crazed bloodlust that it made Draco feel physically sick when he remembered that he was related to this woman.

_I am not one of them! _he wanted to scream, his eyes traveling over the people standing nearby, taking in each hand gripping a wand, each figure's aggressive stance, each pair of eyes shining with a manic desire to torture, to kill, to spill blood, to hear a victim's screams as light left their eyes….

_I'm not one of them; you know that, right, Harry?_

Draco could see the black-haired boy's soft smile, hear his whisper: _I know and you know; that's all that matters._

The reassurance, however imaginary, did help. Draco closed his eyes, trying for a moment to tap into the supply of the courage he knew Harry possessed in great quantity. He remembered how bravely the other boy fought, how he never hesitated to save someone's life, how he never used an Unforgivable Curse unless it was absolutely necessary—

"Now."

The single murmured word did not fall on deaf ears. At once, everyone was alert.

"It is time," Lord Voldemort said calmly, slowly, his voice so near a whisper yet so easily heard by every ear. "It is precisely midnight, and we have not acquired the desired prize.

"Attack."

For a few silent moments, nothing happened. Then Bellatrix gave an excited shriek and took off toward the castle. Greyback followed, throwing back his head and letting loose a savage howl that made Draco's blood run cold. Lucius held his wand aloft and laughed coldly as he followed the other two. Severus gazed up at the castle with his black eyes before walking calmly after the others. Death Eater after Death Eater charged past the Dark Lord and streamed into the castle. Within seconds an explosion rent the air and Voldemort laughed softly.

"Still here, I see," he murmured, turning his head ever so slightly in Draco's direction. Panic shot through Draco's chest as Voldemort's crimson eyes came to rest on him.

"I—I'm—I'm going," he stammered. "I'm just trying to figure out where's the best place to start." He knew his mistake in lying to the Dark Lord, but he could not say what was truly on his mind; there was no way he could manage to make it all into coherent words.

To his surprise, he didn't feel the creeping, probing feeling that came with Legilimency working on one's thoughts. Voldemort had not attempted to see into his mind, although he had to know Draco was lying.

"Intriguing," the clear, quiet voice said. Draco did not know what he meant by that, but he did know that he shouldn't stay long enough to find out.

"I'll be going now," he said, swallowing in an attempt to soothe his dry throat. "Unless—unless you have an order for me, m-my Lord?"

Voldemort chuckled softly, his red eyes coming to rest on the castle of Hogwarts. Vibrant orange flames were burning bright in three windows, making Draco's heart twist. Harry was in there. He had to find him.

"No orders," Voldemort murmured. "None now."

"Oh—okay, then, I'll be—"

"But a request."

"Ah—what?"

"Fight for me."

Draco's heart pounded as the snakelike head turned to fully face him; he willed his voice to hold steady.

"I will fight my hardest," he replied truthfully. Now he could feel the Dark Lord gently probing at his mind; Draco employed the Occlumency he had learned from Bellatrix to keep Voldemort's deeper curiosity at bay but letting him in just enough so that he would know that he did indeed speak truth.

"Good."

And with a simple nod, the Dark Lord dismissed him, and Draco was off, running full pelt in the direction of the castle, terror burning in his chest as Harry's face swam before his eyes.

* * *

><p>Harry had never felt so alive. Every tiny detail of the scene around him was exploding in his head with such force that it made him dizzy. Every sound, every flying spell, every flash of human and beast and minor hex and Unforgivable Curse made his head spin mercilessly.<p>

He fought his best, shooting curse after curse at Death Eater after Death Eater, trying to stun and paralyze but not kill. What if Draco was behind the next mask?

His heart was throwing itself against his ribs and his breath was coming in gulps, but his wand hand was miraculously steady as he hurled himself out of the way of a jet of red light and pointed Draco's wand at the source—

"_Stupefy!_" he shouted, and the Death Eater crumpled as the spell made contact.

"Nice one, Harry," Ron panted next to him, quickly wiping at the blood that was trickling from a cut on his forehead. Twenty minutes into the battle and Harry was untouched, though, he noticed as he looked around, his comrades seemed to have some injuries. There was Remus Lupin, brandishing his wand with his left hand; his right was a bloody mess. Seamus Finnigan's sandy hair was turning red from a cut on his temple, but as Harry watched, he successfully Stunned a nearby Death Eater and spun round to help Lavender Brown, who had just fallen. The two ran for it as another Death Eater split the floor at their feet, sending bits of stone flying.

"HARRY!" Ron bellowed, and Harry threw himself to the ground just in time; Macnair had just sent a jet of green light flying his way. Harry opened his mouth to say a spell but before he could, Hagrid appeared out of nowhere, lifting Macnair into the air with a roar of anger and throwing him bodily across the fray. The man hit a wall and fell like a stone to the floor, unmoving.

"Watch yerself, Harry!" Hagrid bellowed as Harry leaped to his feet again.

"Trying!" he replied, quickly erecting a Shield Charm over Ron, who had been unaware of the Stunning Spell flying at him from behind.

"Thanks, mate!" Ron shouted over the noise.

"Don't mention it!"

On and on Harry fought, losing track of time, of the numbers of Death Eaters he battled, of who and what surrounded him. He looked up and Ron had gone; Hermione was at his side now, her teeth clenched and her bushy hair flying as she Stunned Death Eater after Death Eater, then she had left and it was Neville who was in her place, fighting on despite the blood flowing from a deep wound in his shoulder, then it was Ginny, her long red hair sticking to the sweat on her face, Luna, calmly aiming her wand and rarely missing her targets, Lupin, his hand still bleeding mercilessly but seeming to hardly affect him, Bill, the scars on his face more gruesome now that many of them had been reopened….

It was a relentless, dangerous dance of wizard versus wizard, wands flashing like swords, curses flying, victims screaming, and the sickening feeling that it would never end sitting heavily in Harry's heart.

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><p>Draco was running, running faster than he'd ever thought his legs could carry him. Ripped tapestries, crumbling stone walls, and demolished suits of armor flashed past him as he sprinted down the corridor, cursing his shameful cowardice.<p>

_You should be fighting, not running!_

_I can't!_

_YOU MUST!_

As if to dramatize the thought that rent his mind, a figure flew at him from the dark, raising a wand, about to attack. Draco reflexively slashed the air with the wand in his hand—the Stunning Spell hit the girl and she fell to the floor with a startled yelp, thick brown hair swirling around her—Hermione Granger—

Suddenly, the world exploded around him as Dolohov flung a Blasting Curse at the nearest wall. Draco tumbled head over heels as the force of the spell caught him. He managed to keep hold of his wand as he hit the stone floor hard, but could not suppress a cry as pain exploded in his shoulder.

He lurched to his feet, gasping with the pain as he moved his left arm. At least, he realized, it wasn't his wand hand; he could still fight.

_But I don't want to fight! _he wanted to wail. _I want to find Harry! And I want to tell him that I want to fight for _him_, not for the side I'm supposed to be on!_

The frantic thoughts whirled around his mind, making him feel dizzy and sick. He clenched his hand tighter around the handle of his wand and turned to keep running, but as he did a person hurtled from the shadows and physically tackled him. Draco screamed out with pain as he hit the floor hard, his wounded shoulder burning.

A wand-tip suddenly pressed against his throat, and Ron Weasley's face, red with fury and with the blood on his forehead, loomed over him. The tall redhead's lips were drawn back in a snarl, his teeth bared, his eyes frenzied with rage. Draco drew breath sharply and tried to throw the other boy off of him; one of Ron's knees was pressing roughly into his chest, affecting his breathing. Ron let out a snarl of fury and dug his knee harder into Draco's ribs, his left hand finding Draco's throat and taking hold, his right repositioning his wand so that it poked hard into the bone just beneath one gray eye.

"No one," Ron hissed furiously, ignoring the increasing desperation of Draco's frantic attempts to breathe, "hurts Hermione Granger and gets away with it."

Draco would have screamed if he had had the ability to draw breath. He was beginning to see spots, although whether it was from sheer terror or lack of oxygen he didn't know and didn't think he would be able to find out. The look in Ron's eyes went beyond angry. It was murderous.

Draco's vision was tinged with red. His eyes couldn't close; he stared up into Ron Weasley's face and knew it would be the last thing he would ever see.

"_IMPEDIMENTA!_"

Ron was suddenly flung backward. The hand lost its grip on Draco's throat and he sucked in air so quickly he nearly choked. Gasping and retching, he lay on the floor, his vision swirling sickeningly. He knew that voice, the voice that had screamed the spell…but he had nothing left in him…he let his eyes close and sank back to the ground, his head coming to rest on cold, hard stone, oblivious to the fact that that same voice was now desperately screaming his name.


	3. Part I, 3

**Another quick special thanks to SatyrsUnite :) and one to Victoria Ad Sicariorum :) I love you both!**

**And a quick thank-you as well to MirrorFlower and DarkWind for your kind review! :)**

**Enjoy, y'all! **

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><p>"HERMIONE!"<p>

Harry heard Ron's shout and whipped around; across the hall, Hermione was falling, Stunned, Stunned by—

_No._

"I'LL KILL HIM!" Ron bellowed, charging toward the figure that had cast the spell.

"RON, NO!"

Harry leapt for him, trying to catch hold of him, he missed—

And without warning he was flying backward, the roar of an explosion ringing in his ears, falling, landing….

He rolled over, sucked in a breath, and spat blood to the floor from where he had bitten his tongue, coughing and shoving his glasses back into place with one hand.

The fighters around him were recovering, and the curses were still flying. Harry rolled quickly aside as a Death Eater staggered backward toward him and fell; placing his hands firmly on the floor and heaving himself to his feet, thankfully still with the hawthorn wand in his hand, Harry looked wildly around for Ron and—

A pain-filled scream ripped through the air and Harry spun on the spot; the two figures were all the way across the hall, and one of them had been the one to scream. Harry knew that voice; he broke into a sprint and plunged towards them, leaping around obstacles in his way. He had to get there before—

"RON! NO!"

Now he could see more clearly: Ron was on top of Draco, his face twisted with rage and his hand constricting Draco's throat, and Draco was gasping, his gray eyes rolling and panic flashing in them—

_No! NO!_

And Harry was running faster than he could ever remember running, but he would be too late, Ron wasn't letting up—

"_IMPEDIMENTA!_" he shouted desperately, hating to do it but knowing he must—

Ron was thrown backwards, into the wall, and Harry's heart lurched with fear and guilt, but Draco gasped, and until the sound reached Harry's ears he thought he had never really known what relief meant.

Harry flew the last bit of space in a few bounding steps, blood roaring in his ears and panic constricting his own throat; Draco's eyes were closing. Ron clambered back onto his feet, and Harry closed the distance and flung himself to his knees, Draco's name tearing itself from his mouth and seeming to echo even in the clamor filling the hall.

"Harry!" Ron yelled, steadying himself against the wall. "What was that for?"

"Look at what you've done to him!" Harry shouted, his hand flying to Draco's chest, feeling anxiously for a heartbeat and finding one, but the quick, shallow breathing barely moved Harry's hand at all and made his heart freeze with fear.

"He's killed Hermione!" Ron shouted back, his blue eyes wide and frenzied.

"She's only Stunned! And why didn't you go to her instead of go after Draco?"

Ron immediately spun around, but across the hall, Nymphadora Tonks had Hermione's unconscious form in her arms and was limping heavily toward the nearest room, repelling enemies as she did so. Despite being barely able to walk, Tonks never stopped fighting.

Beneath Harry's hands, Draco stirred ever so slightly, and Harry's focus was immediately brought back.

"Help me get him somewhere safe," he snapped at Ron, more worried than angry, and Ron hesitantly helped Harry lift Draco and awkwardly carry him into the nearest room: their old Charms classroom.

"Find those cushions Flitwick used to have us work with," Harry barked to Ron as they carefully laid Draco down on the floor underneath what shelter a nearby desk provided. Ron scurried off to the supply cupboard, and Harry pointed the hawthorn wand at Draco and whispered, "_Ennervate_."

The gray eyes immediately opened. Blinking a few times as though trying to focus, Draco peered up at Harry, a weak smile barely lifting the corners of his mouth when their eyes met.

"Thought I heard you," he croaked.

"Thank God. Oh, thank God, thank God," Harry breathed in a rush, dropping the wand and taking Draco's face in his hands, smoothing his thumbs across the pale skin.

"Found them," Ron announced, dropping a pile of cushions on the floor at his feet. "Here…."

Harry seized them and began arranging them around Draco, who yelped quietly when Harry moved his left arm.

"You're hurt!"

Draco pulled his arm away, biting his lip.

"You _idiot_, why didn't you tell me?" Harry spat angrily.

"Didn't—ask," Draco hissed in between breaths, his eyes narrowed.

Harry's fingers itched to hit him, but he forced himself to refrain from doing so and examine the injury more closely, biting down on the inside of his cheek as he did.

"It looks dislocated," he said, swallowing. "Not—not badly, but…."

"Didn't Tonks teach you a spell for something like that?" Ron asked dubiously.

"Oh, yes—_Episkey_—d'you think that'd work?"

Ron shrugged. "You do it."

"Is that okay?" Harry asked, turning back to Draco and picking up the hawthorn wand.

Draco shrugged too, although it looked odd when he only had one healthy shoulder. "I guess so."

Harry raised the wand, trying to force his hand not to shake as he pointed it at Draco's shoulder.

"_Episkey_."

Draco gave a muffled cry as his shoulder snapped back into place, clenching his teeth tightly, and Harry's confidence faltered. "I'm sorry," he said quickly, taking hold of Draco's other hand and squeezing it tightly. "I'm so sorry!"

"Don't be," Draco groaned. "He's the one who—who should be sorry." He pointed at Ron.

"Hey!" Ron blurted. "I'm the one who remembered about that spell! You're welcome!"

Draco glared.

"Next time tell me when you're injured," Harry said fiercely, interrupting the argument. "When were you planning to bring it up that you had a dislocated shoulder?"

"When _he_ wasn't trying to kill me," Draco hissed, throwing a glare at Ron. "And why did I even have to tell you, I can take care of myself!"

"Sometimes I don't know that you can," Harry snapped angrily, and Draco's eyes widened before narrowing, fixing Harry with such a furious glare that it reminded him strongly of how they had once been enemies. Harry's anger faded; he didn't want Draco to be mad at him, he didn't want to know those days again, the days of hostility, even hatred. He didn't want to throw away what they had now, especially not over a few impulsively spoken words.

"I'm sorry," Harry whispered hoarsely, leaning forward and resting his forehead against the hand that held Draco's. "I didn't mean that, really I didn't…I'm sorry…."

Draco's hand twitched slightly as though he wanted to pull it away, but instead he heaved a loud sigh that Harry knew was Draco's way of telling him he was forgiven.

"I'll make it up to you," Harry murmured, feeling bad that he'd upset the person he loved, who he hadn't properly seen in so long. He bent forward and kissed Draco's forehead.

"If you really want to make it up to me you'll give me a proper kiss," Draco said firmly, fixing Harry with his gray gaze. "It's the least you can do."

Harry gave a short laugh, relief bubbling in him like a spring. He leaned forward eagerly and pressed his lips to Draco's, feeling the other boy's hands gently sift through his messy hair, closing his eyes. The rest of the world seemed to melt away like snow under sunlight, leaving nothing but the two of them, locked together, never to be separated….

"I am _never _going to get used to that."

Harry and Draco broke apart to glare angrily at Ron, who was standing there looking rather awkward and a bit disgusted. Harry felt slightly foolish; he'd forgotten Ron existed. And, he realized as a clear shout of "_Expelliarmus!_" rang from outside the room, he'd also forgotten about the war going on less than twenty feet away.

"We need to get back," he gasped, rocking back on his heels. "We can't stop now."

Ron immediately drew his wand, looking ready to reenter the battle, and, to Harry's horror, Draco sat up and started to climb to his feet, picking up his own wand as he did so.

"Not you," Harry snapped to Draco. "_You _are going to stay here, you're hurt and we can't risk you going back in."

"Maybe you can't," Ron grumbled quietly.

"You healed my shoulder," Draco pointed out, flexing his arm without hesitation but gritting his teeth ever so slightly as he did so. "It's fine."

"You're staying," Harry growled. "That's final."

"Since when are you in charge of me?" Draco snarled suddenly, lurching to his feet and putting his face up to Harry's. Harry hated that Draco was taller than he was now. He also hated that Draco was trying to be heroic. Didn't he see that the important thing was that he healed properly and stayed out of the way of future harm?

"Since you've proven you don't know what's best for you!" he said loudly, letting his temper boil over. "You're about to run out into the middle of a war!"

"So are you!" Draco's eyes were blazing. "How am I any different? Are you implying that you're better somehow? Stronger? Smarter? A better fighter? What? I'd love to know."

Harry took a step back, his mouth gaping with shock. There was truth in the other boy's words, and the sudden realization of his own blindness was a blow.

_Why did I say that? I should've known he'd take it like that._

"Answer me," Draco ordered, taking a step forward, his eyes losing none of their iciness.

Harry opened his mouth, but no words came. How could he manage to choose the right ones, anyway?

"He's being noble," Ron snorted. "He doesn't want you to go back because he's afraid he'll _lose_ you, although I personally can't relate to that," he added in an undertone.

The ice in Draco's eyes thawed ever so slightly, the anger slowly but surely melting away. "You'll never lose me," he said quietly.

Ashamed of himself, Harry dropped his gaze to the ground before hesitantly lifting it to Draco's face. "Promise?" he asked, oblivious to Ron dramatically rolling his eyes two feet away.

Draco nodded. "Promise." He met Harry's eyes; the ice was gone. "You know I love you, Harry, why would I leave you?"

Harry laughed mirthlessly. He had no answer to that. "Just don't."

"Looks like I won't be leaving this room, either," Draco added, his voice suddenly with an edge to it. "That's what you want, isn't it?"

Harry winced. "Just…please? I'll be able to focus on the battle if I'm not worrying about you."

"But what if someone bursts in here? This place isn't exactly well-protected," Draco pointed out.

"That can be fixed. _Protego Totalum!_" Harry waved the hawthorn wand in a wide, sweeping arc, and a milky glow spread out across the room, encircling it in protection.

"Nice," Ron said."Now can we get back to the battle?"

"One second," Harry said, turning around to face Draco, whose eyes were still giving him a slightly reproachful look. But underneath that, Harry thought he could detect a tiny flicker of relief, and that made him certain he was doing the right thing. He would keep fighting while Draco stayed, safe and sound, in the secure, protected classroom. _Hopefully this will all be over soon,_ Harry thought. _We'll finish them off and then things'll calm down a bit._

"I'll see you later," Harry murmured, leaning forward to graze Draco's cheek with his lips. "Promise. Everything'll be okay."

The gray eyes regarded Harry almost warily, but then Draco half-smiled and took Harry by the shoulders, kissing him firmly on the mouth.

"I'm going to hold you to that, you know."

"I'm not surprised." Harry grinned.

"Harry, let's _go_," Ron said urgently, and Harry threw Draco a smile before turning and following Ron from the room, none the wiser of what he had yet to face but suddenly feeling a little more ready to conquer whatever it would be.


	4. Part I, 4

**Okay, this chapter is basically a repeat of the last one, only in Draco's POV, and I apologize if it annoys anyone. There is some new stuff at the end, though, never fear! ;)**

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><p>Draco's eyes opened abruptly. His vision swayed sickeningly and he nearly retched, but he managed to focus on the face in front of him. He knew that face, just as he knew the voice that had cast the Impediment Jinx and had been calling his name.<p>

"Thought I heard you," he managed, trying to smile as he looked up at Harry's face, which was slightly blurry around the edges. His head was swimming and his shoulder was throbbing, but his heart was glowing with happiness.

"Thank God. Oh, thank God, thank God," the familiar voice said. Warm hands caressed Draco's face and he closed his eyes contentedly, enjoying the gentleness of Harry's touch.

Something fell to the floor next to Draco with a soft thump, prompting him to open his eyes. Harry's hands left his face as he leaned over to grab the objects, which were a bunch of soft, colored pillows, and began to position them; he gently lifted Draco's head and pushed a cushion into place, and Draco closed his eyes again, reveling in the feeling of being back in the presence of the person he loved, being taken care of, being able to relax at last.

Momentarily lulled, he was unprepared for the sudden pain that shot through his injured shoulder as Harry lifted his arm. He gasped with pain; cursing himself, he immediately bit his tongue. He didn't want Harry to know, didn't want him to think he was weak, unable to hold his own in a fight without being wounded.

"You're hurt!" Harry exclaimed, sounding shocked.

Draco firmly pulled his arm away, shaking his head and biting down on his lip so fiercely he was surprised he didn't taste any blood.

"You _idiot_," Harry hissed. "Why didn't you tell me?"

He sounded angry; this made Draco defensive. "Didn't—ask," he breathed, glaring up at Harry and gritting his teeth with pain.

Harry's lips pressed together and his green eyes blazed angrily, but his fingers were gentle as they traveled across Draco's shoulder, softly searching for the injury. Draco screwed his eyes shut and forced himself to hold still, but he wanted so badly to pull away and yell at Harry not to touch him. The burning sensation in his shoulder and upper arm made him wonder if it was swelling.

"It looks dislocated. Not—not badly, but…" Harry's voice trailed off.

"Didn't Tonks teach you a spell for something like that?" another voice asked. Draco's eyes flew open, his heart began to pound. The last time he'd heard that voice it had been vicious, threatening, even savage. But even though now it was hesitant and quiet, Draco still didn't want to be anywhere near its owner. He sat up, clutching his hurt arm to his chest just as Harry turned back to face him, wand in hand.

"Is that okay?" he asked, his green eyes searching Draco's face.

_What is he…? Oh, the spell someone taught him. _Draco tried to shrug, but his left shoulder could not obey. "I guess so," he said hesitantly.

Harry lifted the wand and Draco squeezed his eyes closed, tried to brace himself before—

"_Episkey_."

The horrible burning suddenly intensified, and Draco couldn't suppress a cry of pain. He clenched his teeth as the burning reached a peak and faded to a sharp chill before drifting to neutral.

"I'm sorry," Harry apologized. "I'm so sorry!" He squeezed Draco's hand; the latter shook his head dismissively.

"Don't be. He's the one who—who should be sorry," he managed, lifting his other hand to point accusingly at Ron Weasley, who was standing just beyond Harry.

"Hey! I'm the one who remembered about that spell!" Ron snapped angrily. "You're welcome!"

Draco just glared at him defensively. He didn't want to give Ron a reason to attack him again, but he didn't want the redhead to think he was weaker than he actually was.

"Next time tell me when you're injured," Harry cut in. "When were you planning to bring it up that you had a dislocated shoulder?"

"When _he_—" Draco glared at Ron—"wasn't trying to kill me. And why did I even have to tell you," he added angrily to Harry, his frustration at how helpless he knew he must seem bubbling over. "I can take care of myself!"

"Sometimes I don't know that you can," Harry snarled, and shock burst in Draco like the explosion that had injured his shoulder. He narrowed his eyes, fury coursing through him, replacing the shock. So this was how Harry saw him. As something so fragile, so powerless he was not capable of keeping himself safe in battle, always needing Harry's help.

But Harry seemed to realize he'd gone too far, he bent over and gently laid his forehead against Draco's hand that he still held. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean that, really I didn't…I'm sorry," he whispered, the pained words cutting into Draco's heart.

At first Draco had wanted to yank his hand from Harry's grasp, but he settled on giving an exasperated sigh that let Harry know he was forgiven without having to actually say the words.

Harry's relief-filled emerald eyes gazed earnestly at Draco. "I'll make it up to you," he said softly, leaning forward and kissing Draco on the forehead.

_Does he think I'll settle for that? _"If you really want to make it up to me you'll give me a proper kiss. It's the least you can do," Draco said, catching Harry's gaze and holding it.

Harry laughed, and that single sound managed to lift Draco's spirits, however slightly. The black-haired boy leaned forward, their lips met, and for one timeless, priceless moment nothing in the world existed to Draco except for Harry, his glasses that brushed gently against Draco's face, his messy locks of black hair that Draco could not resist running his hands through, his lips and the precious contact that they held with Draco's own…

Ron's voice shattered the sweet silence: "I am _never _going to get used to that." He was standing there with his shoulders hunched uncomfortably, clutching the wand in his pocket as though he wanted to take it out and _scourgify _his eyes.

"We need to get back—we can't stop now," said Harry suddenly, getting to his feet. Ron took out his wand and held it tightly, looking back toward the door of the room with a sort of grim determination that Draco couldn't help taking notice of. The Gryffindor looked so ready to take on anything in his path, but this sort of drive was not fueled by bloodlust but by loyalty to a side, to a leader.

Draco's eyes went to the third person, the second Gryffindor. And he knew Ron was not the only person in the room who would be loyal to Harry.

He sat up and retrieved his wand from the floor before starting to stand up, breathing evenly and trying not to move his shoulder.

"Not you," Harry snapped suddenly, rounding on him. "_You _are going to stay here, you're hurt and we can't risk you going back in."

Ron muttered something, but Draco didn't catch what and didn't care. He looked up at Harry from his kneeling position on the floor.

"You healed my shoulder, it's fine," he said firmly, readily flexing his arm but clenching his teeth at the dull but strong ache that resided in his shoulder.

"You're staying," Harry growled, his handsome features hardening. "That's final."

His firm, fierce tone managed to reawaken all of Draco's insecurities. He clambered to his feet and shoved his face close to Harry's. "Since when are you in charge of me?" he demanded.

"Since you've proven you don't know what's best for you!" Harry exclaimed. "You're about to run out into the middle of a war!"

"So are you!" Draco yelled back, his anger at the injustice of this rising in him. In his fury he could hardly remember the passionate appeal he had seen not five minutes ago in kissing the boy that stood in front of him. Now he wanted to strike him, smack the glasses from his face and make him angry, let him see how it felt…

"How am I any different?" he shouted, giving in to the anger that clouded his vision like a red mist. "Are you implying that you're better somehow? Stronger? Smarter? A better fighter? What? I'd love to know." He crossed his arms and glared into Harry's face. The other boy's expression was turning to one of shock and dismay. He took a step back as Draco took a step forward.

"Answer me," Draco commanded, employing the forceful, domineering tone that he had heard used many a time by his father, the kind of cold authority that nearly always got Lucius results.

"He's being noble," Ron scoffed from a few feet away. "He doesn't want you to go back because he's afraid he'll _lose_ you, although…"

Draco missed the last quietly-spoken words; his mind was suddenly wheeling with realization. Of course—why hadn't he seen it before? The only reason why he had not tried to keep Harry from fighting was because he had known that the other boy would never listen. But he had wanted for so long to try to persuade Harry to give it all up: the missions, the battles, the _dangers_. All of it could so easily add up to him losing Harry.

He had never thought that Harry would feel the same way, but he supposed he had known deep down, maybe hoped a bit closer to the surface.

"You'll never lose me," he murmured, looking into Harry's face and feeling the return of the glow that had been present at the meeting of their lips.

"Promise?" Harry asked hopefully.

"Promise," Draco replied firmly, nodding. He focused on the emerald-green eyes and felt a rush of affection for their owner. "You know I love you, Harry, why would I leave you?"

"Just don't," Harry said, giving a short laugh.

"Looks like I won't be leaving this room, either," Draco said, casting a glance around the old classroom. "That's what you want, isn't it?"

_If you don't think I can keep myself safe in a fight…_

"Just…please?" Harry said. "I'll be able to focus on the battle if I'm not worrying about you."

"But what if someone bursts in here?" Draco retorted. "This place isn't exactly well-protected."

"That can be fixed," Harry said, lifting Draco's old wand. "_Protego Totalum!_" he said, and the room was suddenly bathed in a warm, pearly glow that resembled a thick white soap bubble. Despite wanting to prove himself in battle, Draco could not help feeling a bit relieved at the thought of protection.

"Nice," Ron commented. "Now can we get back to the battle?"

"One second," Harry said to him, and he turned to face Draco. "I'll see you later," he said softly. "Promise. Everything'll be okay."

Draco felt the black-haired boy's lips on his cheek and gave a small smile before he gently grasped Harry's shoulders and leaned forward to kiss him on the lips. "I'm going to hold you to that, you know," he said, and Harry smiled broadly.

"I'm not surprised," he said.

"Harry, let's _go_," Ron said, sounding impatient.

Harry smiled warmly at Draco before he turned and walked with Ron out of the room. The door clicked shut behind them, leaving Draco alone. For a few moments he just gazed at the door before he turned away and sat back down on the cushions underneath the desk. So this would be his home until the end of the battle. He let out a defeated sigh and lay down on the cushions, keeping his wand in his hand just in case but wanting to be comfortable if he was going to be there awhile.

It was then that he realized he was not alone.

A sunken, gaunt face was gazing at him from the far corner of the classroom, seeming to have been patiently waiting for his presence to be noticed. Draco jumped with surprise before he relaxed; he recognized the face.

"Hello, Baron," he said.

The ghost of the Bloody Baron glided forward slowly, his dark eyes unblinking as they gazed at Draco's face. "I heard," he said in his usual hoarse whisper.

The two simple words managed to get Draco's attention instantaneously. "How much?"

"All."

Draco clenched his teeth with irritation. "And you couldn't cough, or rattle your chains, or do anything to let us know you were eavesdropping?"

The ghost narrowed his eyes. "You had no objection to the presence of the Weasley."

He was half right; Draco hadn't objected to Ron watching him kiss Harry, but the redhead's presence had made him slightly uneasy, and for obvious reason. Draco didn't bother to correct the Baron. He settled for an impassive glare.

"You are friendly with a Gryffindor."

Silence on Draco's part.

"It is against who we are as a House."

More silence, although underneath irritation was beginning to morph to anger.

"I thought you were proud to be one of us."

"I am!" Draco snapped, letting his composed manner slip. "When the hell did I say I wasn't?"

The Baron raised a silver eyebrow. "You did not _say_ anything."

Somehow the quantity of his words, or rather, lack of, was only managing to incense Draco more. Everything the Baron _didn't _say seemed to amplify inside his mind.

_You have betrayed us._

_You are embarrassing us._

_Are we not good enough for you anymore?_

_Of course you did not need to speak the words—your body language was clear enough._

"Did I have to say anything?" Draco hissed, clenching and unclenching his fist around his mother's wand. It was a lame response and he knew it, but it felt good to say. "Since when do you have to know anything about my life?"

The Baron's snakelike, unblinking gaze didn't waver from Draco's face. He stayed that way, unmoving, for many long heartbeats, before his mouth opened.

"I do not want you to make my mistakes."

Draco almost couldn't catch the words, they were spoken so quietly, but once they sank in, he was still annoyed and now a bit curious.

"What are you talking about?"

The Baron gestured silently to his robes, marred with great silver bloodstains. Draco had never asked about them. He didn't want to know.

"I died for love."

Draco could sense that there was more to the story, but he didn't pry. He took in the words, the Baron's gaunt, wasted face, the robes forever stained with blood.

And he took in the mental image that he knew he would never lose, never forget. Harry's face. Just his face. His hair, his eyes, his scar. He took in the rush of affection that came with the memory.

"I'd die for him," he replied softly, meeting the Baron's eyes.

The ghost regarded Draco, a grim shadow clouding his transparent face.

"I hope you will not have to."

Draco's eyes dropped to his lap, to his right hand resting on his knee, still holding the wand. _So do I,_ he admitted silently. _But I would._

He didn't know where the sudden certainty of these feelings was coming from, but he knew that it was true, the way it rang forcefully in his mind, seemed to flow to his muscles and tighten them. His fingers clenched a little more firmly around the handle of the wand, his weapon, his protection, his source of offense and defense both, his only familiarity, his only stronghold in this torn-apart world that was now _the _world.

He thought again of Harry's face, heard his voice.

"_I'll see you later. Promise. Everything'll be okay."_

_Promise,_ he'd said.

That simple word tore at Draco's heart. How many times had he heard that word in his life, and how many times had the speaker been honest? Too many and not enough.

It could easily have been his love for Harry overruling his judgment, but this time it was not. Draco knew that the other boy had been telling the truth. Harry would not willingly betray his trust, not when Merlin knew he had worked so hard to win it. In spite of everything, Draco smiled.

The Bloody Baron cocked his head questioningly. Draco had forgotten he was there. He stood up, nudging aside a cushion with his foot, flexing his shoulder, fingering the wand in his hand, each movement sure and confident.

He strode across the room to the door, his back to the ghost, his head held high.

"I would know your reasons."

Draco turned to look the shadow of a man in the eye.

"I can think of no more honorable way," he replied simply.

The words registered, and the Baron bowed his head to Draco. He lifted it again, and something miraculously like humor flickered in the dark depths of his eyes. "Perhaps Gryffindor would have suited you."

"Never," Draco replied, unable to stop the smile.

"My blessings upon you, young Slytherin."

Draco nodded his thanks before turning back around to face the door. He took in a deep, reassuring breath, then another, before he reached out and rested his hand on the door handle. He had no way of knowing what would become of him once he left the protection of the room. He had no way of knowing whether he would prevail or perish.

But he did know what he was fighting for.

And with the awareness in his mind, the wand in his hand, and determination in his heart, he turned the handle.

Opened the door.

Stepped beyond.

Maybe never to return.

But he was willing to take the chance.

END PART I


	5. Part II, 5

**And Part II is underway! For all those curious, there will be five parts total :)**

**Reviewers are very much adored :) Thank you all!**

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><p>PART II<p>

_I can't pretend everything's all right_

_Please don't let me fall forever_

_Can you tell me it's over now?_

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><p>Harry's mind knew only one thought: <em>fight.<em>

It was the mantra that pulsed through his mind like unspoken song, harmonizing with the blood roaring in his ears and the adrenaline streaking through his veins. It was the rush he felt fueling his muscles and stimulating his senses. It was the inspiration that made him want to scream with exhilaration, laugh out loud as his enemies fell. It was everything.

It was a blur, a daze, a timeless gray fog that was suddenly broken by a flash of red.

Next to Harry, Luna Lovegood gasped and fell like a stone to the floor, blood blossoming over her chest. Harry reacted instantaneously, sending the Impediment Jinx at the Death Eater and throwing him backwards before he dove to the ground and grasped Luna's wrist. Her heartbeat was still there and steady, but the blood was flowing faster.

"Hang on, Luna, hang on—" Desperately, Harry cast a Shield Charm over them and tried to summon knowledge of any healing spells. Luna gazed up at him with her pale eyes, looking unfazed as usual, but the heart beneath her blood-soaked chest was beating faster and faster.

"_Tergeo_!" Harry gasped, acting on the first thought that entered his mind, but the spell did nothing but siphon away the blood. It did nothing to heal the wounds that Harry could now see properly: deep slashing cuts that Harry recognized. The effects of _Sectumsempra. _

"Luna!" a panicked voice suddenly yelled, and Neville Longbottom flung himself at the shield Harry had conjured. "What's wrong with her?" he shrieked at Harry.

"I—she's—get help!" Harry shouted in response, placing his hands over the wounds in a vain attempt to stem the flow of blood and looking up at Neville, unable to suppress a startled gasp.

Neville's round face was nearly unrecognizable. Drying and fresh blood coated the entire right side of his face from a wound on his forehead so nasty that it made Harry wonder if it was a cracked skull. The shoulder wound Harry had noticed before was a mess of blood and dirt and sweat. He was unrecognizable from the unconfident little boy Harry had known in first year.

That was then. This was now.

Harry gaped momentarily at Neville before looking back down at Luna, whose eyes were beginning to close. What had happened to his world?

His broken concentration dissolved the Shield Charm he had cast, and Neville threw himself at the floor next to them.

"Luna!" he screamed desperately, taking Luna's limp arm in his hand and holding on like it was a life preserver. "Help her!" he yelled at Harry. His wild brown eyes pleaded with Harry so desperately that Harry had to wonder, however far back in his mind, if it was strong friendship or perhaps something more that was lighting the flames of panic in Neville's eyes.

"_Episkey!_" Harry shouted, aiming his wand at Luna. The deep gashes weakly knit, but blood still oozed from the gaps. Harry's heart was nearly splitting itself in two with the force of its frantic beats. Luna's face was ashen pale, her chest was red with blood. And then she smiled. It was a small smile, but it was unmistakable. And she reached forth a gentle hand, wrapping her fingers firmly around Neville's, keeping her eyes on Harry. He opened his mouth to say the spell again, but he was interrupted.

"Don't try, Harry," Luna said softly, the serene smile unwavering on her face. "It's okay. Save your strength. You're going to need it."

Harry choked on the unsaid words. _She can't_—_can't mean_—_no_—_no! _

Luna's pale, pretty eyes then turned to Neville. "You've looked better," she murmured to him as calmly as though the conversation was about nothing of more importance than the weather.

"I can't—Luna, you'll be o—"

"Don't lie to me, Neville. I know you never have. Don't start now." Her voice, though very quiet, was surprisingly strong. Her lips curved a little more, the smile widening. "Actually, you've lied to me once before."

Neville's jaw worked soundlessly, his eyes gleamed with tears. And Luna spoke:

"The day you said you were nobody was the biggest lie you've ever told me."

Neville's shoulders heaved with sobs as he pressed his forehead to Luna's shoulder. "Luna…Luna…" he whimpered into her hair.

"I'm sorry, Neville," she whispered, so quietly that Harry almost missed the words. And then the pale eyes were closing, the blood-soaked chest ceasing its feeble rising and falling. Only the smile remained, never to be lost.

"Luna…_Luna_…" Neville cried. "Luna, come back…please…you don't have to apologize…"

Harry's wand trembled violently in his hand as his whole body shook with suppressed sobs. Neville was crying freely, his bloody face pressed against the shoulder of Luna Lovegood, whose musical, dreamy voice would never speak of Crumple-Horned Snorkacks again.

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><p>"<em>Stupefy!<em>"

The Death Eater went rigid and dropped to the ground as Draco's spell hit him from behind. His opponent, the Weasley with all the gruesome scars whose name Draco had forgotten, looked distinctly startled at the sudden incapacitation of his enemy, but he shrugged it off and continued to fight.

Draco's gray eyes carefully scanned the wide hall for more opportunities. There, dueling Justin Finch-Fletchley, was Rookwood, crazily throwing waves of light at the Hufflepuff and not seeming to care in the slightest how many other people he hit, whether they be friend or foe.

Draco carefully took aim with his wand and muttered, "_Petrificus Totalus!_"

Rookwood almost instantly crashed to the floor, and Justin, like the Weasley, stood momentarily stunned before quickly moving on to another opponent; there could be no time to waste, but on his face was a look of obvious confusion.

Draco might have laughed to himself if he hadn't been so scared. He was crouching against a wall, concealed in a corner, as far back underneath the cover of shadow as he could be, and just for good measure he had performed a Disillusionment Charm on himself, but there was nothing he could do to slow his frantic heartbeat.

He had been fighting, if one could even really call it that, for almost an hour, and he hadn't seen any signs of Harry. He had seen Granger, back on her feet, he had seen most of the Weasley family, and he had even seen his father. Draco remembered shrinking back against the wall, forgetting about the Disillusionment Charm completely and praying for Lucius not to notice him. He remembered hearing his father's voice roaring "_Avada Kedavra!_" and opening his eyes in a panic just in time to see the tall black Auror Kingsley Shacklebolt fall under the wave of green light.

It terrified him that his father had been aiming to kill, but what terrified him more was that Harry's side—now _his _side—seemed to be slowly becoming overwhelmed. Draco was trying his best, but in the confusion it wasn't always easy to aim; he had already Stunned a Ravenclaw student whom he didn't recognize by accident and shattered a large window with a poorly aimed Disarming Charm.

What was worse, he was noticing more and more injuries among the fighters on his side: the Weasley father had a broken nose, one of the Patil twins was limping heavily… The list went on.

Draco kept flexing his left shoulder nervously, glad for a slight distraction while he looked for another opportunity to cast a spell. He took comfort in the fact that there was no longer any pain; Harry had done a good job with the healing spell.

_I owe him_, he thought. _I owe him for so many things. I just hope I get the chance to pay him back somehow._

He looked through the crowd for what felt like the thousandth time, searching fruitlessly for a flash of Harry's black hair or a reflection of light off his glasses…

A startled yelp suddenly escaped Draco's lips as a burning pain seared his left arm. He clenched his teeth and pulled his arm close to his body, his mind whirling.

_The Dark Mark—he's calling us back—_

And then it happened: Darkness slammed down over Draco's vision so quickly and alarmingly he gasped. All around him startled cries were ringing out. Draco pressed himself back against the wall, clutching his wand tightly in his hand. More people screamed or called out for others, and he heard it: footsteps running across the hall, many people heading in one direction, to one destination.

"_Lumos_," he muttered shakily, but if his wand did follow orders its light couldn't penetrate the blackness. All around him, people were calling out and shuffling around in the dark, and Draco recognized the voices; they were Harry's army.

_Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder, _he realized as he brought his hand as close to his face as he could without touching and yet was unable to see it. _They obviously planned this…why didn't I know about it?_

Panic suddenly threatened to overwhelm him. _Does he know I'm fighting for Harry now? But he can't! We were the ones who were losing…why did they retreat? Are they trying to make us let down our guard or something? Lure us after them? Lure us outside…where they'll attack!_

In the darkness, unable to see, disoriented and confused, Draco panicked. _I've got to find Harry! _he thought, clawing his way to his feet. _I've got to make sure he's okay! He can't go after them—it's a trap, I know it's a trap!_

He sprinted across the hall, stumbling over pieces of stone and pushing his way unceremoniously through the crowds of people who were conversing frantically, muttering "_Lumos_" and "_Incendio_" and trying to come up with some explanation for the occurrence. Draco ignored them and kept running, relying on his memory of the castle's layout to lead him safely to a place where there was light. At the back of his mind he remembered being small and trying to find his way around Malfoy Manor with his eyes closed as a game, until his father discovered him and told him off for such foolishness.

_Now I _need_ to know how to find my way blind_, he thought bitterly, remembering how he had scurried away, cheeks burning with shame from his father's sharp scolding. _It wasn't just some foolish child's game!_

Breathing hard and trying to shake off the memory, Draco closed the distance between him and where he assumed the door of the hall would be, but a sharp pain suddenly seared over his shins and with a startled gasp he found himself lying across a felled suit of armor. He staggered to his feet again and immediately collided with the solid wood of the door. Growling softly with embarrassment even though he knew no one had seen, he shoved the door open and slipped beyond into even more impenetrable blackness. Obviously the Death Eaters hadn't saved their entire supply of powder just for the first hall.

Draco still had no idea where Harry could be in the labyrinth of halls and corridors that the castle held, but he knew he had to try. He kept going, stumbling over the debris that littered this new corridor and trying without success to light his wand, wishing he had thought to bring his Hand of Glory with him; its light conquered even Instant Darkness Powder. Knowing he had to hurry, he broke into a run, keeping his right hand outstretched and touching the wall of the corridor.

_Why didn't they warn me? _he fretted as he ran, feeling the cold stone of the wall slip underneath the tips of his fingers. _There's no way they can know! If he'd known before tonight he would have confronted me, and there hasn't been any time for someone to tell him now! He can't have known! Was it just a mistake? He might not have told everyone, or they might have just decided on this plan and they couldn't find me to tell me, but…_

Draco sank his teeth into his bottom lip with anxiety as he kept running, kicking aside debris and looking around with wide eyes even though he could have closed them and there would have been no difference.

_What it all comes down to is that I have to find Harry and warn him,_ he thought firmly, picking up his pace a notch and trying to focus on a fixed point, a destination ahead. _I'll tell him what I know; he'll know what to do._

The thought brought comfort to Draco when he recalled the strength, the power Harry possessed in battle. He had confidence in the Gryffindor's skills, maybe even more so than in his own.

_He'll know what to do._

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><p><strong>Sorry, just a quick AN. For all those momentarily confused, Luna's line "The day you said you were nobody..." refers to that scene in _Order of the Phoenix _(the book) when she and Neville meet for the first time and Neville introduces himself as "nobody." Just thought I'd clear that up! :)**


	6. Part II, 6

**A quick thanks to Ash Colored Wings :) Stay awesome!**

**To quote SatyrsUnite: Read, Review, Love! :D**

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><p>Harry lost track of how long he and Neville sat beside Luna's body, but when he looked up the corridor was deserted. Rubble from collapsed walls carpeted the floor, and the bodies of Stunned fighters lay here and there like toy figures dropped carelessly from a child's hands.<p>

Harry got to his feet and shuffled away from Neville, swiping at his tears with the back of his wrist and trying to distance himself a bit, to give Neville a bit of time. He tried to block out the gulping sobs of the boy behind him and focus on the devastation of the corridor, trying to assess the damage. There were only four bodies amidst the crumbled piles of stone and plaster, and Harry could see that they were Death Eaters; having only been Stunned, they would reawaken eventually.

Harry lifted Draco's old wand in his hand and pointed it at a fallen Death Eater, his hand and his voice quavering slightly as he said, "_Petrificus Totalus_."

The Death Eater's limbs locked together instantly. Harry shuffled dazedly to each of the others, casting the same spell upon them. They would likely be doing no more fighting tonight.

Something inside Harry wanted to join them. What would it be like to be able to relax, be able to forget the whole situation? Just forget about the panic, the pain, and the grief and curl up somewhere and sleep?

_Merlin, I wish I could…_

Harry envisioned himself walking away, leaving it all, leaving his army to fend for themselves, leaving Neville, leaving Luna's body behind, leaving Hermione, leaving Ron, leaving Draco…

_I can't._

Somewhere behind Harry, Neville's sobs were fading away to long, shuddering breaths. Harry turned and began to walk back toward the other boy, his feet dragging wearily. He did not want to look at Neville, who was still clutching Luna tightly to him, his tears dripping steadily into her tangled blonde hair.

"Neville?" Harry asked quietly.

Neville looked up, his brown eyes shining with tears.

"Do you want to stop?"

"What?"

"I mean…do you really think we should keep going?" Harry muttered, feeling as though he was shrouded in sheets of metal that were steadily dragging him down. "What's the point? I don't know…do you think we should give up?"

Neville stared at Harry for a long moment. "I didn't think you would ever say that," he said quietly, looking stunned.

Harry turned away and kicked a chunk of stone; it went spinning away somewhere into the dark hall. The sun would be rising in a few hours, but Harry didn't think it ever would. He was done fighting; all he wanted was to go back to the old Charms classroom. He wanted to be able to cry without people gaping at him in shock, he wanted to be able to break down and know that Draco would never breathe a word of it to anyone. He wanted to feel Draco's strong arms pulling him into a reassuring embrace. Wanted to feel the whisper of the other boy's lips on his skin. Wanted to lie down beside him and never wake up.

Wanted to give up.

"Let's go," Harry said, keeping his back to Neville and taking comfort in the fact that his face was in shadow. "Come on. Let's just leave and Apparate somewhere else. There's nothing to keep us here…"

His words had been decreasing in volume, tapering away to silence in the hopes that perhaps Neville wouldn't hear, but it hadn't worked; Neville suddenly got to his feet and grasped Harry by the shoulders, turning him around so that they were face to face.

"Harry," Neville said steadily, his bloody face close to Harry's own. "You don't mean that."

"I do!" Harry snapped defiantly. "I do, I want to leave, I want to forget this whole thing ever—"

His sentence was cut off as Neville hit him across the face. It wasn't a hard blow, it was in fact surprisingly soft, but it was certainly enough to get Harry's attention.

_What the _hell_—_

"What did you do that for?" he shouted, drawing his wand in an instant and pointing it threateningly at Neville.

Neville just looked down at the wand. "Exactly," he said quietly. "You're not done fighting. You can't be, if you didn't hesitate to pull a wand on me. How could you be giving up?"

Harry tilted his head in confusion before the ringing truth of Neville's words sank in. He lowered the hawthorn wand, feeling ashamed of himself.

"I'm sorry."

Neville nodded. "I mean, I'll back you every step of the way, Harry," he said quietly. "But as long as we're on the same path."

A tear slid from Neville's brown eye and ran down his bleeding cheek. He glanced behind him, and then turned back to Harry.

"She shouldn't have died in vain."

Harry nodded in silent agreement, letting his gaze drift to the body of the girl behind them, Luna, who had given her life to help fight for Harry and what he stood for, what he fought for. Then he looked into Neville's face, bruised and bleeding, possibly scarred permanently.

Harry turned around and for a few long minutes just gazed into the darkness, thinking, making up his mind, before he turned back to Neville.

"If we're going to die," he said at last. "Then we might as well die fighting, as opposed to trying to escape." He laughed tonelessly. "That would be a stupid way to go."

Neville's face split into a grin and he opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, footsteps rang out clearly in the darkness.

"Harry? Harry?" a voice called. "Where are you?"

"Here," Harry called back, igniting his wand and holding it up so that the corridor was partially lit. "What is it?"

Ron charged out of the darkness, holding his wand clumsily in his left hand, his clearly broken right arm useless. "Harry, they've left!"

"What?" Harry asked, confused. "Who's left? Not Draco, surely? I told him to stay—"

"No!" Ron yelled impatiently. "He's still where we left him for all I know, no, the Death Eaters have left!"

"What?" Neville yelped. "They can't have! What's happened?"

"It was weird, it wasn't like they'd been clearly defeated," Ron said, his eyes flicking restlessly from Harry to Neville. "They threw Instant Darkness Powder into the air, and while we were all disoriented they just turned tail and fled like they'd been summoned. It could've been their Dark Marks, You-Know-Who calling them back…"

"But why?" Harry asked.

"You're asking me? I don't know!" Ron protested. "I just came to tell you; what are you doing back here any—"

As he spoke the words, his gaze strayed past Harry and Neville to the slender body on the floor. His blue eyes widened with shock.

"That can't be—that's not—"

Harry nodded; Neville bit down on his lip, fresh tears gleaming in his eyes.

"No!" Ron yelled. "No—not Luna…"

For a few moments, Harry and Neville stood in place, each avoiding the other's gaze as more tears of grief made their appearances. Ron made his way to the body of the fallen girl and momentarily rested his left hand on her unfeeling shoulder before he got to his feet and turned to face Harry and Neville, looking visibly shaken.

"Are, uh…are you guys coming?" he asked, sounding a bit anxious to leave.

Neville looked at Harry, who forced himself to hold back his tears. There would be time to mourn later; right now he needed to lead. He made an effort to straighten his spine and lift his chin; exchanging glances with each of his friends, he strode out of the deserted corridor.

* * *

><p>As time went on, Draco's life improved slightly. Away from the fight and able to let his guard down a bit, he relaxed. His breathing eased and his heartbeat slowed. The Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder wore off as Draco got farther and farther away from the hall he'd been fighting in; now he could use a spell to light the natural darkness, although he knew that that too would turn to light soon enough.<p>

_I need to find him,_ he reminded himself, stepping over a fallen suit of armor and casting a nervous glance out a nearby window. He wished he could have used some way to track Harry magically, but if such a spell existed he had no knowledge of how to cast it.

A soft scuffling noise up ahead caused Draco to freeze in his tracks. The wand in his hand extinguished its dim light; he hadn't dared to ask it for enough light to brighten the entire corridor. He kept one hand on the wall, taking comfort in its solidity, and peered into the shadows up ahead with narrowed eyes.

_Did I imagine that? I could've sworn I heard…_

He was careful not to let his breathing echo into the stillness of where he stood, motionless. The scuffling had stopped as abruptly as it had started; did whoever or whatever was causing it want to remain undetected?

_Was it just Mrs. Norris or something? Or a mouse?_

_What if it's an enemy? Should I risk it…?_

Careful not to make more noise than necessary, Draco pointed his wand out into the darkness ahead of him and whispered, as quietly as he could, "_Homenum Revelio_."

A soft wave almost like a visible air current flowed from the wand and spread out like ripples in the glassy surface of liquid. Draco waited, keeping his wand poised for another spell should the need present itself. He lifted his head when he noticed that the ripples of the revealing spell seemed to be heading back his way, as though they had ricocheted off of something. Someone. He looked ahead, narrowed his eyes—

"_Avada Kedavra!_"

Draco dived at the floor, a startled scream leaping from his throat as the wave of deadly green light washed over him. He flung out his right hand, wand clenched tightly in it, and yelled, "_Expelliarmus!_" He heard a clatter as his opponent's wand hit the wall next to them and fell to the floor; he couldn't see it to snatch it, but he hoped it hadn't just landed at his enemy's feet.

"_Draco?_"

The voice was familiar; Draco had heard it his entire life. But there was still no way to prepare for meeting its owner face-to-face when the emerald flash, the Killing Curse, had just been thrown at him.

"Draco," Lucius Malfoy repeated, this time with more conviction. "Exactly _what _are you doing? Skulking about like that—and you haven't performed the Disillusionment Charm as ordered! What if you'd been _seen?_ You would have ruined everything—"

Startled, Draco realized that he couldn't even see his father, even in the dim moonlight coming through the window, and he remembered the Disillusionment Charm he himself been hiding under as he fought. He might have laughed if he hadn't been so shaken—he hadn't even noticed that it had worn off.

"I didn't know," he stated, picking himself up off the floor. "No one thought to inform me of the plan everyone else but me seemed to be aware of."

Being in the presence of his father was driving a certain chill into his tone, and although he was unable to see the man standing less than ten feet away, Draco could easily imagine the gray eyes narrowing as Lucius spoke: "And would there be a _reason_ for that unfortunate mishap?"

"I should think not," Draco snarled back, his edginess making him defensive. "But instead of interrogating me, don't you think it would be more useful to actually _inform_ me what this amazing plan is so that I can avoid embarrassing you?"

_And so I can tell Harry what it is when I find_—

Draco's train of thought was cut off as Lucius' voice lashed the air: "Control your tongue!"

The voice positively brimmed with anger; at the strong surge of emotion the Disillusionment Charm dissolved and Draco could see the shadowy outline of his father standing in front of him. His wand was in his hand again, outstretched menacingly.

"If you had not disappeared to your wanderings earlier, you would not have been so ignorant! Honestly, Draco, I expect better from you," Lucius hissed. "I have given you every possible opportunity to make me proud. And you don't take them."

A sick sense of fear squeezed Draco's chest as Lucius stepped a little closer. He could tell that this wasn't just about knowing a battle plan anymore.

"You have not let me down thus far, Draco. But you are approaching that fine line with alarming swiftness."

Lucius' voice had lowered to an angry hiss, and as he stepped forward, his gray eyes boring into Draco's face and his shoulders tensed threateningly, Draco had to fight the urge to turn and run.

"If you do not prove yourself tonight," Lucius snarled, his teeth bared. "You will have betrayed your allies, your lord, and me." The wand was extended, the tip much too close to Draco's face for his liking. He swallowed nervously, not meeting his father's eyes.

"Look at me, Draco," Lucius growled. "Do you understand me?"

Draco nodded, but he could not lift his gaze, could not look into the eyes that resembled his own. He didn't want to know how much.

"I said, look at me." The wand lowered, aimed itself directly at Draco's heart. He squeezed his eyes shut, a sickening feeling of terror taking over him, rooting him to the spot. In his mind's eye he saw Kingsley Shacklebolt falling as the Killing Curse met him. He heard the man's final yell, saw his body crumple to the floor. Heard his father's voice. Screaming the spell.

_That could have been me—if I hadn't—and now—he could—_

"_Look at me_."

But Draco couldn't.

"_Cruc—_"

"_STUPEFY!_"

As soon as the word left his mouth, Draco was seized by panic, white-hot panic that raced through him dizzyingly as Lucius dropped to the floor, his long, pale hair flying, his wand slipping from his hand and hitting the ground. The sound echoed through Draco's mind.

_What have I done?_

Draco's breath came in frantic gasps as he broke into a sprint, flying down the corridor and not bothering to be quiet, not letting the obstacles in his path slow him down. He had been through enough. He would let nothing stop him until he found Harry. Harry was the only one who Draco knew would be able to take away the fear, stop the panic.

Harry was the only one who could end it all.


	7. Part II, 7

**Reviewers are much appreciated! Keep Calm & Drarry On, y'all!**

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><p>Harry's heart sank when he saw his army.<p>

Only a few hours ago they had been a formidable battle force, fired up and ready to take on anything. Harry had been so proud to call those people his friends and his allies. He had felt so grateful to have these wonderful people on his side.

But now there were no confident smiles, no straightened backs, no shining eyes. No. Now there were weary grimaces stretched across the faces of most, and nervous, rapid flickering of the eyes of others. Injuries were being nursed by almost all.

Harry felt his throat begin to close with fear; he clenched his jaw and forced himself to remain strong. They needed him to. Each and every person here needed someone to look to for reassurance, for the plan. And that someone had to be him.

Ron and Neville stood on either side of him in the middle of the Great Hall, Ron cradling his broken arm, Neville wiping halfheartedly at the mingled blood and tears on his face. Both of them were waiting patiently for Harry to take action, ready to keep on standing beside him in the time to come.

Remus Lupin's head turned in their direction, and he turned to face them, his naturally shabby appearance now combined with the toll that the battle had taken. Hermione, who stood next to him, followed his gaze and gave a weary half-smile when she saw Harry, Ron, and Neville. Many others followed this lead, and soon Harry had the attention of his entire force without having to say a word. He searched quickly through the crowd, making sure that certain faces were still there. He choked back his emotion as he thought of Luna, who would be fighting no more, and of Draco, whom Harry desperately wanted by his side at the moment. But Draco was still tucked away, safe and sound in the old Charms classroom, according to Ron, and Luna was safe now too, although in a much different way.

_Nothing will ever hurt her again, _Harry thought. _And nothing will ever hurt Draco, if I have anything to do with it._

He swept his gaze over the crowd again, over all the battle-worn faces.

_Nothing's going to hurt them, _any_ of them. I won't let them die too._

The army was silent, waiting for Harry to speak. He admired their patience, but he knew that in their situation there could be no time for patience.

"Ron says that the Death Eaters have left," he began. "Can I get an explanation? I didn't know about this before."

"It's just as you said—the Death Eaters have left," said Ginny, who was standing beside Hermione. "They threw Instant Darkness Powder into the air and retreated."

"Not retreated," Lupin corrected her. "We cannot believe that they have given up. They…did not seem to be as badly affected."

"We were losing," Harry translated bluntly.

Lupin's gaze slowly dropped to the floor. "Yes."

"Well, where are they now?" Harry asked, aiming the question at nobody in particular. "Did anyone see? They can't have had enough Instant Darkness Powder for the entire castle."

Glances were exchanged, shoulders were shrugged.

"No one?" Harry asked.

"We could go and look," George Weasley suggested in a quiet, hoarse voice. "Split into groups and search."

Harry had not been paying attention to a single word. All he heard was the ringing silence that would have been filled with the voice of Fred Weasley.

"Where's Fred?" he asked, his tone almost angry. He would not let himself believe it.

Nobody said a word, but George's expression changed instantly: jaw clenched, eyes tightly shut, head bowed. It spoke of suffering, of pain. Of death.

"I think that's a good idea," put in Hermione, who had tears shining in her eyes. "We'd just have to be really careful."

"They may not have left the castle," Lupin pointed out. "They could still be inside, waiting for us to go searching for them, and when they get us split into small groups, they could easily send groups of them after each of us and defeat us that way."

The words sank in, and the loudest silence that Harry had ever heard filled the Great Hall, broken only by the nervous shuffling of Hagrid's huge feet over in the corner.

_If that really is their plan, then there's no point. I was right, what I said to Neville. There's nothing left here for us, only more death._

"Any more ideas?" Harry asked.

His mouth closed and the silence continued as though nothing had interrupted it at all.

"Well," Harry said grimly, fixing his gaze at the floor. "Do we surrender?"

That got a reaction. Heads snapped up, gazes hardened, fists clenched.

"He died for nothing, then?" George shouted, his good-natured face taut with anger.

Ron whipped around to face Harry, his blue eyes wide with shock. Hermione's eyes brimmed with fresh tears; Ginny put an arm around her. Neville simply continued to stand at Harry's side, staring straight ahead. Hagrid's mouth gaped and his beetle-black eyes shone with distress. Lupin seemed to age another year as he lifted his head to look at Harry. His body may have been close to broken, but his wisdom was still as intact as ever as his gaze connected with Harry's: _A good warrior knows when he is beaten._

"Listen," Harry said. "We can leave the castle and Apparate somewhere else."

"Where?" Seamus Finnigan challenged. "Where do you suppose it's possible _he _won't be able to find us?"

"I only know it's possible to buy ourselves some time," Harry responded, forcing himself to keep his tone light; he didn't want to fight with Seamus. "But I'm asking you. Who wants to surrender, and who wants to keep fighting?"

"I say we fight," snarled George. "I'm not letting them get away with what they've done."

"I say we leave," said Ginny quietly. "If we stay… We were losing before. And they have even more of an advantage now…it's not good."

Harry closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to collect his thoughts.

"I'll stay," he said at last. "I'll stay and hold them off while those who want to leave make their escape. You all decide what you each want to do. I won't force anyone."

George immediately crossed the room and stood beside Harry. Neville didn't move from his position. Ron went to Hermione and quickly spoke to her before circling back to stand beside Harry again. Everyone else stayed where they were.

"That's that, then," Harry said. "We've got no time to lose, so everyone—do what you decided on."

His shoulders felt as though they were draped with a shroud of cold metal, his heart felt heavy and numb. It was all going to go to waste. None of it had mattered. They were giving up.

_Know when you are beaten._

_We are._

It pained him to finally admit it to himself, but it was true. They had suffered too much loss, and the enemy had the upper hand. Harry knew he couldn't make them continue like this.

It would be the end.

"Be careful when you're leaving," he said. "I don't know where they're hiding but they most likely haven't left the castle."

"Ah, how accurate," a voice said.

Harry whipped around, his heartbeat leaping into a furious, panicked tempo.

Death Eaters were walking one by one through the doors of the Great Hall, each one slightly renewed in health, each one clutching a wand, each one with an expression of triumph on his or her face. Harry recognized too many of them as those he thought he had incapacitated, but there they were again. He did not, however, see Lucius Malfoy or Bellatrix Lestrange amongst the ranks, and that worried him.

"We are no longer hiding, Harry Potter," said Lord Voldemort himself, standing at the head of the group, his snakelike head held high, his crimson eyes glittering with cold.

For a moment their gazes connected: scarlet against emerald, and then the world was ripped apart. Spells flew through the air with frightening force and speed; shouts rang out on both sides.

"GO!" Harry roared. "IF YOU GET THE CHANCE, GO!"

His words seemed to reach some, and although it was not easy to watch amid the moving bodies and the jets of light, Harry thought he could see a few people start backing away towards the doors, fending off enemies as they went. With luck they would be able to escape the Hall and leave.

_But I have to stay._

Harry Stunned a Death Eater and shot the full Body-Bind at another, but they didn't stay down for long; another Death Eater would quickly perform whatever countercurse was necessary and their comrade would leap up, ready to fight again. Panicked desperation flooded Harry, and the words he never thought he'd say left his mouth: "_Avada Kedavra!_"

A Death Eater immediately dropped to the floor, and Harry had about one second to feel shocked before another Death Eater sent the Killing Curse his way; he dove at the floor and knocked into the person next to him, Ron, accidentally taking him down too.

"Bloody hell, Harry!" Ron yelled, shoving Harry off of him with his good arm. "Watch it!"

"Sorry," Harry gasped, clambering to his feet again.

"Has Hermione gone yet?" Ron asked, breathing hard. "I told her to go—did you see her leave?"

Harry thought back; he recalled Hermione's bushy hair whipping between the doors of the Great Hall. "She's—yeah, she left," he panted.

Ron heaved himself to his feet. "Good," he said, wiping the sweat off his face with his sleeve. "If something happened to her I'd never forgive myself."

And in that moment Harry was rooted to the spot, newfound panic instantly flooding him.

"What?" Ron exclaimed, noticing Harry's expression.

Harry's mind raced: _I've left him—he's still—he's got to get out—I've got to tell him to leave!_

"What?" Ron half-yelled. "What's wrong?"

"Draco," Harry stammered, his terror that something would happen to the other boy freezing his heart. "He's still where we left him_—_I've got to go to him!"

Harry spun around in a panic, but he had not even taken one step before Ron's hand closed around his arm.

"I'll come," he said. "I can't let you go alone."

Harry worked his jaw, unable to call words to him. For a moment, he and Ron simply held each other's gaze, and then they were off, both running hard, throwing spells and dodging fighters on both sides. They were no longer running offense; their spells were cast as defense, as protection. Everything had changed.

The storm had broken. And while once Harry would have reveled in the wild beauty of it, now he was trying to dodge the bolts of lightning that threatened to take him.

This would have been the time of glory. The time when the fighters each discovered what they were made of. The time of triumph.

But none of that mattered now.

The only thing that mattered was getting out alive.

END PART II


	8. Part III, 8

PART III

_There's a hate inside of me like some kind of master_

_I tried to save you but I can't find the answer_

_I'm holding on to you, I'll never let go_

_I need you with me as I enter the shadows_

* * *

><p>Harry didn't slow for anything. His feet took a wrong step every so often, but his drive was much stronger. The adrenaline that fueled his muscles was much too powerful to be hindered by feet that weren't careful enough.<p>

Ron kept pace at Harry's side, his longer legs allowing him to jump more easily over piles of broken stone and sometimes even entire felled columns. Neither of them said anything; Ron's lips were pressed together in a tight grimace, and Harry did not think that he could have spoken even if he had wanted to. He felt as though something was blocking his throat, letting each labored breath escape without a fuss but not allowing words the same privilege. He was terrified that something had happened to Draco while he had been in the Great Hall with everyone—had his protection spell been efficient? He knew that he would never be able to cast it as well as Hermione, but he hoped fervently that it had done its job. If it hadn't—Harry refused to think about that.

_He has to be okay. If he isn't it's all my fault!_

Harry sprinted up a tall staircase, Ron close at his heels, and flew down the next corridor, the blood singing in his ears with his panic. The old Charms classroom was on the other side of the castle—faster! Harry put on an extra burst of speed he hadn't thought he had in him, clenching his fist tightly around the wand in his hand.

The first rays of sunlight were beginning to make their tentative appearance, but they could not be seen from this side of the castle. It was still much too dark to see. Harry heard Ron's voice panting "Lumos!" and holding his lit wand high as they turned a corner.

It was then that they could see someone up ahead at the far end of the hall, running in their direction. Harry's heart leaped into his throat as the other person, just visible in the light from Ron's wand, skidded to an astonished halt about a hundred meters away. He knew who this was; he recognized everything about this person, this boy, who was now holding his own wand high, letting its light shine ahead. But Harry could not stop running. He would not stop until he was at this boy's side, or better yet, in his arms.

"Harry?" Draco called in astonishment, his pale face paler than usual and his gray eyes wide.

"Draco!" Harry yelled back, sprinting the last few meters and sliding to a stop in front of him. The two of them met in an embrace, Harry nearly crying out with relief. Draco was alive, he was here, unhurt and in Harry's arms, his body warm and solid, his heartbeat matching the frantic rhythm of Harry's own.

"I told you to stay in the classroom!" Harry said when they pulled apart. He slid his hands down Draco's arms to grasp his hands tightly; he was never going to let him go ever again.

Draco's eyes were wide and marred with conflicting emotions as he looked at Harry: fear, relief, defiance. His face hardened to the stubborn expression Harry knew well.

"I wanted to go out and fight," he said defensively, his eyes never losing that mulish look.

"I wanted you to be safe," Harry countered.

"I was safe."

"No, you weren't."

"I'm not hurt."

"You were before."

"You healed me."

"You could have been hurt again."

"Like you're so invincible."

"I—" Harry stopped short. He had no argument to that.

"Fine," he grumbled. "Listen to me, though, we can't afford to waste time. You've got to get out of here, and as quickly as possible. They've come back, they've made another attack, and they're stronger now—they've performed healing spells, I'm sure of it. The others are holding them off—we got ambushed in the Great Hall—but they can't keep it up for long. We've lost too many; we were going to retreat before they attacked again, and—did you hear that?"

Something had made a soft scraping noise in the darkness somewhere behind Draco. Harry looked past him, Draco turned around, and Ron lifted his lit wand.

"I heard that too," he muttered, narrowing his blue eyes.

"Is someone following you?" Harry asked Draco. The other boy shook his head, but he looked nervous now.

"I don't think so…"

No more noises followed the first, but Harry was still uneasy. He tightened his grip on Draco's hands and pulled him through the doorway of the nearest room. Ron didn't follow; facing the direction from which the soft sound had come, he extinguished the light of his wand and held it at the ready.

Confident that Ron could handle whatever came along, Harry led Draco toward the far wall of the room that they were now in. It was wide and empty, and Harry didn't know what it had once been used for, but he really didn't care.

"Listen to me," he said urgently to Draco. "You've got to get out of here _now_. Leave the castle however you can, leave the grounds, and Apparate somewhere else. It doesn't matter where; just buy yourself some time. He's too strong for us here—we'll all die if we stay." Harry's heartbeat hadn't slowed in the least, but he forced his voice to remain steady; he didn't want Draco to feel his fear.

"And where will you be?" the blonde responded, narrowing his eyes as though he already knew the answer.

"I'm staying," Harry told him. "I can't abandon them—they're fighting for their lives back at the Hall, and _he's_ there too, I can't leave them alone. I'm going to stay, but I want you to leave. Do what I told you—leave the grounds and Apparate to somewhere else, somewhere safe. I can't—" Harry swallowed nervously—"I can't promise I'll get the chance to do the same, but…" He trailed off, lifting his eyes to look into Draco's face. The other boy's gaze was surprisingly steady.

And then he shook his head.

"Wait, what do you…?"

"I'm staying with you."

It took a moment for the words to sink in, but when they did, Harry simply gaped, unable to call the words he wanted to his tongue.

"No—I can't let you," he managed at last.

"I want to."

"You'll be killed!" Harry's desperation spilled over at once. He had to make Draco see, had to make him understand just how dangerous this was, what exactly he was agreeing to.

"Then I'll die next to you, and I can't think of a better way."

Harry wanted to scream, wanted to grab Draco by the shoulders and shake some sense into him, but something in the Slytherin's steady gaze held him back. He met the gray gaze with his own green, reading the emotions in it as though from an unwritten book, an unspoken language.

_He's not trying to be heroic. He…he means it._ Harry could feel the obstruction returning to his throat, this time for an entirely different reason. _In his own way…he's as brave as any Gryffindor. He didn't stay in the room like I told him to, he fought for my side, not the side he pledged his loyalty to…and he'd face his death if it means he stays with me._

"Do you have any idea how _stupid _you're being?" Harry exclaimed, but he couldn't keep the grin off his face.

Draco's face broke into a grin as well, and he squeezed Harry's fingers firmly. "No more so than you," he retorted playfully.

Harry tilted his head. "I really can't change your mind?" he asked.

"You've never been able to before," Draco laughed softly, stepping just a little closer to Harry. For a long moment, they did nothing but simply look at each other, reading the emotions on the other's face, admiring the depths of the other's eyes. And then their fingers were intertwining, their hands were gently tightening their grips, and they were stepping yet closer, exchanging one last glance between them before their eyes—one pair the striking green of summer grass, the other the misty gray of low-hanging clouds—closed.

And Harry tilted his chin up ever so slightly to meet Draco's lips with his, and Draco let go of one of Harry's hands to slip his hand around to his back and pull him in a little closer, and Harry allowed himself to let go, to momentarily forget all the pain, all the grief, all the sickening fear that tonight had brought to him. This moment belonged to him, and to Draco. Nothing could take it away from them. Nothing could hope to have the power.

All too soon it was ending; they were pulling apart just enough to be able to look at each other face-to-face once again. Draco's lips curved in a smile, and Harry knew his own expression could not look much differently.

But there was something different in the gray eyes, something that Harry could not decipher. He hesitated to ask.

There was, however, no need.

"Harry…" Draco whispered softly, his handsome face masked by the shadows.

He trailed off and Harry waited, making no move to fill the silence. He could not make Draco lose his confidence; he had to wait.

"Harry…I love you."

And in that timeless moment Harry cared nothing for wars, for enemies, or even for friends. There could be none that made him feel like this. None that could say those words to him. None that he could say those words back to, and mean them like this.

He would like nothing more than to say them back.

He lifted a hand, gently stroked Draco's pale cheek with one finger, tried to take a moment to gather the Gryffindor courage he knew he must have.

"I love you too, Draco."

The gray eyes met his again, and when Harry saw the joy that leaped in their depths like beautiful, shining fish, he wanted to cry out with his own happiness. Draco's smile seemed to light him up from inside. His hands tightened around Harry's fingers, his touch seeming to flood Harry with warmth.

"I mean it," he murmured softly, the smile never threatening to fade. "Really, if we make it through this…I'll propose to you."

A jolt of surprise lanced through Harry's body like an electric shock. He had never really taken the time to consider the possibility before. But he knew without having to think that it would be wonderful. He would belong to Draco forever, and Draco would belong to him. They would be bound with every touch, every gaze, every kiss. Forever.

In the midst of a moment like this one it was easy, much too easy, to forget the deadly forces that walked the castle that night.

But the memory could be brought back in less time than it took for a heart to beat, an eye to blink, a foot to fall. Two feet, four feet.

Two people.

Two hands holding wands. Two flowing manes of hair, one black, one white-blonde. Two bodies, one female, one male, both with shoulders tensed aggressively and feet spread apart for firm balance.

Two pairs of eyes. One pair as dark as a nightmare, holding the scarlet spark of madness within, and the other pair the familiar misty gray of low-hanging clouds, but these eyes were different. They smoldered with fury; in them danced the flames of hatred as they fixed themselves upon the two boys standing in the shadows at the back of the room.

"What did you just say?"

It was the gray-eyed man who spoke; the words were spat from between his teeth as though they were drops of poison. He advanced a step, the once-beautiful woman standing at his side, her head tilted wickedly and her eyes shining with bloodlust.

Harry could feel himself slowly going numb with shock; whatever emotion he had been feeling before had fled in terror, leaving him alone and exposed, vulnerable and undefended in the face of these two people. Draco's hand shook as he lifted his wand, and Harry pointed his own wand with his left hand, not daring to remove his right from Draco's gentle grasp. Something told him that if he let go he might never find it again.

"I ask you again," Lucius Malfoy snarled. "_What did you say?_"

Draco opened his mouth instantly as though he was used to obeying, but it took him much longer to speak.

"Y-You heard m-me," he stammered, nervously licking his bottom lip. Harry could feel Draco's hand shaking in his; he closed his fingers tightly over it, trying to give reassurance however he could. But in the face of those murderous gray eyes, Harry was not surprised that he was unable to hold his own wand steady.

He tried to deepen his breathing, tried not to give away his fear. But something inside him knew that this would be the end of something, and he was powerless to turn aside what had been determined. For a moment, terror threatened to sweep him away, but then Draco's fingers squeezed his, and the single motion, however small, made Harry stand just a little taller. He managed to lift his chin. He managed to hold his wand steady. And he managed to summon from within a scrap of what made him a Gryffindor. What made him who he was. What made him Harry Potter.

And with Draco beside him, Harry could believe that anything was possible.

Victory or defeat.

He could go down fighting, or he could live.

Whatever fate he held he could not control. But as he gazed into the faces of the enemies, he felt no fear.


	9. Part III, 9

**Reviewers will be forever loved! Enjoy, y'all! :)**

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><p>Draco refused to succumb to his fear, but it was becoming more and more difficult by the second.<p>

His father and his aunt, each with a wand in their hand and flames in their eyes, were approaching, ever so slightly. Aggressively. They had known nothing.

_I could never have told them. They would have killed me_, he thought bitterly. _They wouldn't have accepted me then, and they won't now. Not now, and not ever._

"I ask you again," hissed Lucius. His voice was quiet, but there could be no mistaking the rage behind it. It was only a matter of time before it broke through the wall. "_What did you say_?"

Against his will, Draco opened his mouth, fighting against the instinct that was insisting he act upon it. The instinct that he had bent to his whole life.

_Don't fight him!_

_Don't make him angry!_

_Who knows what he'd do to you_—_whatever you do, don't risk it!_

Draco silently willed the right words to come to him.

_I can't be what he wants me to be anymore._

"Y-You heard m-me," he managed to choke out. The fear in his voice was painfully obvious, but the words were the right ones.

He could feel his body trembling; he could barely aim his wand now. His conscience was screaming at him, yelling that he'd done the wrong thing, that he would pay the price, but a small, deeper part of him knew that he wasn't wrong anymore.

The rest of him wasn't so sure.

Draco's breath began to come a little quicker; he wasn't sure at all how much longer he could keep standing there, looking into the blazing eyes of his father. And then he felt Harry squeeze his hand, firm and gentle, and he was reminded that he was not alone. He knew that Harry would never leave him. Despite his fear, Draco could feel his heart filling with affection for the other boy. He returned the squeeze and clenched his teeth together as he looked back at his father, trying to hold the gray gaze, waiting for him to reply…

Draco's words had sunk in; Lucius' face was the blazing red of flame, matching the murderous rage that lit his eyes. He stepped closer, his shoulders taut with anger, his wand aimed and ready.

"WHAT?" he roared, the sound exploding through the vast room like thunder. Draco's heart jumped, and he could feel Harry next to him recoil slightly.

"YOU DARE—" Lucius stopped himself, breathing hard. Bellatrix, at his side, smirked hungrily and grinned, running her tongue over her teeth like a huntress anticipating the kill.

"Potter," Lucius continued, his gray eyes black with rage and narrowed to slits, "I will flay you within an inch of your life. I will have you so mortally wounded that you will not even be able to open your mouth and beg me for death. But I will _never_ be able to punish you enough for what you have done."

Harry stood firm at Draco's side, silent and strong, unflinching, still holding Draco's hand, and Draco loved him for it.

"And _you_," Lucius snarled, his gaze shifting to the right.

Draco braced himself.

"You have dared to defy the Malfoy bloodline, tarnish it with betrayal! He is a _half-blood!_" the man screamed, gesturing wildly at Harry. "He is on the other side! He is a _boy!_"

Behind Lucius, Bellatrix let loose a wild shriek of laughter, and something inside Draco snapped.

Lucius did not know Harry at all. He knew Harry Potter, the Chosen One, the enemy of his lord, the enemy of _him_. He knew Harry Potter, the boy who deserved death but always managed to slip from its claws.

He would never know Harry the way Draco did.

He knew Harry, yes, as the Boy Who Lived, but also as the person who never failed to make Draco feel appreciated. He respected Draco like no one else did, and while it was true that they had once been enemies, those days were far behind them. Draco remembered the good days of walking hand in hand through the grounds of Hogwarts, studying long hours together in the library and helping the other with what they did not understand, and even just the quickest impromptu kiss shared between them as their paths crossed. These moments may not have amounted to much time, but they more than made up for that in quality.

Draco wished that there was some way for him to fashion these memories and emotions into comprehensible words and shout them into his father's face to try to make him understand. But even if there was, in his fury he was incapable of trying.

But he knew that there was something he _could_ say. Something that he needed to say.

_This is your time. It's now or never._

"I didn't want to," he said quietly, his teeth clenched.

"What?" Lucius growled.

"I didn't want to join the Death Eaters," Draco said, louder this time. "You made me."

Lucius' eyes narrowed. "That's not—"

"I didn't want to kill," Draco continued, gathering momentum. "You made me."

"This has nothing to do with—"

"I'm sick and tired of doing what _you_ want me to do!" Draco shouted, the words bursting out of him like they had finally managed to break loose from the chains holding them back. "I'm of age, I can take care of myself, and I want to make my own decisions." He swallowed nervously, but he could not stop now.

"I want to do what's _best _for me!" he yelled over the sound of his heartbeat roaring in his ears, forcing himself to stand firm as he gently let Harry's hand slip out of his and stepped a little closer toward the outstretched wand that was pointed at his chest. But strangely, he felt no fear now, only exhilaration and relief.

"I want…" He paused, stepped even closer, met Lucius' eyes. "I want to do what makes me happy."

It was as if something other than his own will guided his actions, his words, even controlled his emotions, but beneath the sweeping waves of adrenaline, Draco knew that it was him alone.

And he knew what he had to do.

_It's now or never._

He turned his back to Lucius and faced Harry. The black-haired boy gazed at him calmly with his beautiful emerald eyes, framed by his glasses. His messy hair that Draco loved was splayed out in strands that covered most of his forehead, but his scar, that famous scar, was visible even in the darkness.

He was smiling.

Draco reached forward and took Harry's hands in his own, catching the green gaze and holding it. He tried to push away the nervousness, for now he could feel fear again, that threatened to take him.

And he spoke.

"Harry James Potter, will you marry me?"

Lucius' rage rent the air in a savage roar, Bellatrix's hysterical shriek making it seem to echo. But Draco did not even hear them; their voices were not important. One voice, and only one, mattered.

A smile, rapidly increasing in size, broke out over Harry's face.

"Of course, Draco."

And nothing mattered anymore. Not his father, not his aunt, not his old fears and insecurities, no, not them, not anything. The only thing that did matter to Draco was the look of elation that was lighting up Harry's beautiful face. He would have given anything to be able to capture this moment, to trap it in a fine, translucent, spun-glass bottle and place it carefully on a shelf somewhere safe where it could never fall and break, not ever.

"You'll pay," snarled Lucius, his voice low and dangerous, packed with hatred. Draco turned to see his father lift the wand he held and aim it squarely at his face. "You'll pay for this! Falling for a filthy half-blood! _Disgracing _our family's noble name!"

Everything that had once made Draco want to turn and run at the sight of his father so furious had left. It had fled before the blinding light of the happiness he felt in the warmth of Harry's hands in his, in the joy dancing in those green eyes, in the words, the _acceptance_.

Draco laughed, and something in Lucius' expression faltered.

"Disgracing our family's noble name, you say?" Draco said, meeting his father's eyes. "It's still _our_? Not _your_? Glad to know you still consider me part of the family, then."

"It was a mere slip of the tongue," Lucius growled angrily. "He is unworthy. His blood is tainted with his mother's Muggle roots."

Draco laughed again, and now Bellatrix's smirk slipped off her face.

"He's not worthy, you say now?" Draco asked, unable to keep a smile off his face. "I can think of none worthier for me than the Boy Who Lived himself."

He turned his head and was greeted by the grin that was lighting up Harry's face. This gave Draco confidence, and he drank it in hungrily; he knew what needed to be said next, and it did require a little more nerve.

"And," he said, tearing his eyes from Harry's face and taking one step closer to his father. "As for disgracing the family name…"

Lucius' eyes were as cold as stones, as dark as thunderclouds. Once, Draco would have turned and run under the ferocity of the look that they were giving him now.

_But that was then,_ he reminded himself. _This is now_.

Draco stepped even closer, closer the face filled with hatred. The face so resembled his own, but the person behind it could never be him.

He opened his mouth.

"I don't think that anything I could do disgraces the name of Malfoy more than your mere existence does, Father."

There was one moment during which the world stood still. Time itself seemed to freeze, and Draco was able to see clearly the blackness that consumed the gray of his father's eyes.

And then the scream of fury shattered the ice that held the world immobile, sending jagged shards flying. Draco wanted to add his own voice to it, but not in anger, nor in fear. He wanted to scream out with the force of the adrenaline that shot through him like lightning.

But there was no time—Lucius lunged, his wand outstretched—

Harry and Draco leapt apart; Bellatrix dashed forward and Harry met her bravely, the two of them sending spells flying. Draco flung a Stunning Spell at Lucius, but his father threw the curse aside and screamed, "_Avada Kedavra!_"

But Draco could barely hear the words, for as soon as they left Lucius' mouth, another scream ripped through the air. But this voice did not hold triumph, nor fury, nor fear.

It was a scream of pain, of torture, of sheer agony.

And the voice was Harry's.

Draco leaped to the side and spun around; Lucius' Killing Curse swept past him, and in the span of mere seconds, Draco's wide gray eyes were able to take in so much: Harry, lying on the floor, his hand pressed to his face, blood dripping between his fingers, his wand lying on the floor, his shirt slashed through as though by a sword. Bellatrix had less than a heartbeat, during which her own scream was being voiced, to feel triumph for what she had done, before the green light enveloped her.

And Draco screamed too, only his could not be mistaken for anything else other than a scream of panic. But in that single, terrible, heart-stopping moment, a fourth voice rent the air. And Draco spun back around, his eyes wide with terror, his heart nearly splitting in two as a lance of adrenaline pierced through it—

And suddenly he was nothing, nothing but a whisper of what he had been, and he was broken, yet he was still intact, and he was walking away, letting the shadows welcome him into their cold arms.


	10. Part III, 10

**Enjoy, y'all! Read, review, love! :D**

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><p>Harry could take Lucius' threats. He could take the scorn. He could take the disapproval, however harshly it was expressed.<p>

But he didn't think he would be able to take standing there much longer without giving a joyful laugh. He was so proud of Draco.

"I didn't want to join the Death Eaters," Draco was stating firmly. "You made me."

"That's not—"

"I didn't want to kill. You made me."

"This has nothing to do with—"

Harry's urge to laugh was completely made up of his exhilarated pride. He knew he should have been scared, terrified even—Lucius Malfoy and Bellatrix Lestrange, the two most dangerous Death Eaters he knew, were facing them, armed and aggressive. But there was no way Harry would stop Draco now.

"I'm sick and tired of doing what _you_ want me to do!" Draco yelled, the strain in his voice clearly perceptible to Harry. "I'm of age, I can take care of myself, and I want to make my own decisions. I want to do what's _best _for me!"

He stepped forward and Harry let him go, letting their fingers part gently. He watched with a lifted chin and a smile on his face as Draco continued to speak.

"I want…" Draco trailed off like he was having trouble getting the words out. "I want to do what makes me happy."

Harry had been hanging on every word, but he still looked at Draco with curiosity and slight confusion when the other boy turned around to face him, turning his back on his father; a bold move, considering the poised wand pointing at his back.

Draco looked at Harry, and in that single moment Harry tried to take in everything. Draco reached out; their fingers met again and Harry could feel the tiniest flickers of warmth spreading across his skin. He smiled into Draco's face, admiring the other boy's sharp features, his smooth, pale skin, and his beautiful gray eyes that were so like his father's yet so unlike them. While Lucius' held only rage and bloodlust, fueled by hatred, Draco's held a world of beauty, a world of life. Any other person would have been intimidated by the mysteries they held. Only Harry knew how to decipher them.

And yet…there was something that he was unable to understand: a flicker of hesitance? Uncertainty?

Even nervousness?

Harry smiled at Draco, trying to speak without the use of words.

_You don't have to be nervous with me. I'd never hurt you._

He had no way of knowing if the message had been received, but Draco opened his mouth to speak.

"Harry James Potter, will you marry me?"

And suddenly he was paralyzed. Shock sent a jolt straight through his spine like a spear, rendering him immobile. But then a thread of joy leaped into existence and began to dance, weaving itself into a golden ribbon that soothed the shock and gave Harry back his ability to move, and to speak.

His first act of motion was his mouth; he couldn't stop his smile.

He knew that then he was to answer, and he already knew what his answer would be. There was no doubt in his mind.

"Of course, Draco," he said, still smiling, still holding eye contact with the other, the one he loved. He thought that his happiness could never be matched, could never be surpassed, until he saw a smile appear on Draco's face. And then he didn't merely _think_ that his happiness was infinite, no, not anymore. He _knew_.

"You'll pay," spat Lucius, breaking the spell.

Spell it had been, Harry realized, giving a small smile. _The most complex and difficult of wandless magic, but the most rewarding to get right. That's probably what Dumbledore would have said._

"You'll pay for this!" Lucius yelled at Draco, his eyes gleaming dangerously. "Falling for a filthy half-blood! _Disgracing _our family's noble name!"

Harry tensed, not so much insulted by the stinging words but worried at how Draco would react to them. For as long as he had known Draco Malfoy, Harry had known how much his family's name and power meant to him. And to fall from his father's grace because of _him_…Harry braced himself.

But Draco merely laughed.

"Disgracing our family's noble name, you say?" he asked, lifting his chin. "It's still _our_? Not _your_? Glad to know you still consider me part of the family, then."

Harry's expression became a wide grin.

"It was a mere slip of the tongue. He is unworthy." Lucius sent a venomous look Harry's way. "His blood is tainted with his mother's Muggle roots."

Harry set his jaw, but Draco gave another laugh.

"He's not worthy, you say now? I can think of none worthier for me than the Boy Who Lived himself."

Harry's smile returned in an instant, and when Draco turned his head to look at him Harry tried to thank him—silently, but there was as much gratitude in it as a spoken word of thanks—before Draco turned back to Lucius again.

"As for disgracing the family name…" he said, taking another step towards his father, "I don't think that anythingI could do disgraces the name of Malfoy more than your mere existence does, Father."

Lucius screamed with rage, and Harry's heart raced with adrenaline and terror, as the man charged with startling speed towards them, towards Draco, his wand held in front of him and his mouth open to say a spell.

Harry dashed to one side, Draco to another. Harry's adrenaline rush only increased in intensity as he spun to face the enemy: Bellatrix, who lunged at him with her dark hair flying and her eyes alight with the fire of madness. Harry pointed his wand at her and yelled, "_Stupefy!_" but she blocked, laughing crazily, and aimed her wand at his legs.

"_Diffindo!_" she screeched, and Harry leaped sideways out of the way of the spell. He couldn't recall the Severing Charm being used in battle before, but she had been aiming for his legs, he realized, aiming to break them and immobilize him.

_She's not trying to kill me yet_, Harry thought vaguely, the sound of his heartbeat rushing through his ears sickeningly._ Has Voldemort ordered me captured alive?_

"_SECTUMSEMPRA!_"

Panic ripped through Harry's mind as Bellatrix's spell ripped through his clothes and flesh; within an instant he had dropped to the floor, blood saturating his clothes, and he pressed his hand to his bleeding face. His wand hit the floor with a clatter as pain seared through him; he screamed out as his body was set alight, as the pain burned in him like flames dancing across the lines of his wounds, as his head spun mercilessly with the heart-stopping panic …

And then another body was collapsing to the floor beside him, consumed by the wave of green light that was the Killing Curse—Bellatrix, her manic eyes still blazing with frozen flames, her teeth still bared in her ever-present snarl, but he barely noticed it at all. Harry twisted frantically in an effort to escape the torment; he looked up and saw clearly in front of him a familiar face, framed with the disorienting spots that danced at the edge of his vision—Draco's face, stricken with terror; his eyes connected with Harry's—

"_AVADA KEDAVRA!_"

Harry had no breath to scream. Lucius' voice ripped through the air like a lightning bolt, and Draco's eyes left Harry's as he spun around—

Despite the blood streaming into his eyes, Harry could see.

Through the haze of sickening adrenaline and paralyzing pain, he could understand.

But he would never be able to make himself believe.

Time slowed down, froze. For one breathless moment, with his terrified scream caught in his throat, Harry watched as Draco spun around to face his father, so light on his feet, so agile…

And then Harry watched as the vibrant green light enveloped Draco's body, bathing him in its vibrant glow, framing him…catching him…_trapping_ him….

And Harry watched as something changed: Draco was suddenly no longer on his feet, prepared to strike back, but sinking to his knees, to his hands, hitting the ground with a force that sent shockwaves through Harry's consciousness.

The wand slipped from Draco's hand and clattered to the floor, the king slowly toppling to hit the chessboard.

Checkmate.

And even as the blood threatened to engulf Harry's vision it did not matter anymore, because if he had to look at darkness for the rest of his life it would be nothing compared to the green light…

Someone was at his side now, quickly muttering healing spells. But Harry paid no attention; he got his breath back and screamed until he thought that his throat would tear with the force of it. The blood vanished from his face and ceased its thick flow from his chest, but Harry shoved the other person's arm away and lurched to his feet. He had to see for himself, it couldn't be true, couldn't be true, _couldn't_—

The man yelled something behind him, but Harry heard nothing. His eyes fixed themselves upon the boy lying on the floor; in a single glance they took in the truth, the reality, along with the white-blonde hair and closed eyes that, had they been open, would have been the misty gray of low-hanging clouds.

But they weren't. Open.

Harry collapsed to the floor, his chest heaving violently with the force of his sobs, reaching for the immobile boy and pulling him close. It couldn't be—it _couldn't_—he was still warm, he was only unconscious, he would wake up…

_He can't._

"_No!_" Harry screamed through his sobs. "_Draco!_"

He could feel his heart tearing as easily as his skin had under Bellatrix's curse, searing with a pain that licked at him like tongues of flame. But this flame could never be quenched. There was no liquid that was capable.

"Shut the hell up, Potter!"

A boot stamped the floor as someone approached, lips drawn back in a furious growl and shoulders tensed with anger. Lucius alone had come through unscathed—_how DARE he!_ Harry screamed inwardly.

Lucius said nothing more; he kept his eyes locked on Harry, who was still lying across Draco's chest, clinging to him, sobbing and glaring up at the enemy with narrowed green eyes as Lucius stopped next to them.

"Don't touch him," Harry snarled, shaking with fury and grief.

Flames blazed across Lucius' eyes as he sent a curse at Harry, knocking him backwards away from Draco's body. Harry hit the stone floor hard and rolled over, letting out a wail of pain.

Out of the corner of his eye he could see Lucius' boot swing down toward Draco's immobile form; Harry shrieked as the crack of bone shattered his consciousness.

"Don't try to tell me what I can and can't do, Potter!" Lucius screeched. "_I'm _the one with the wand! You're the one on the floor too weak to stand up—but you're lucky I can perform the countercurse—you should be thanking me!"

"YOU MURDERER!" Harry screamed, his whole body shaking with sobs. "YOU'VE KILLED HIM!"

He lay curled on the floor, shuddering and gasping for air, wishing he had enough breath in him to scream again, because maybe if he could scream loudly enough, Draco would hear and come back to him…

Harry shrieked as ropes flew out of nowhere and wound themselves around him, binding him so tightly he was unable to move but for his gasping mouth and his rolling eyes.

"You're hysterical, Potter," Lucius growled softly, approaching and looking down at him. "You would have never been worthy."

"Kill me, then!" Harry spat. "Kill me, like you killed him!"

"_Don't speak of him!_" Lucius howled, his bared teeth flashing white in the darkness. His boot slammed down hard onto Harry's chest, driving the breath from him. "He is nothing! _Nothing!_"

Harry gasped desperately, managing bit by bit to pull air into his lungs. His tears still streamed from his eyes, blinding him; he could not use his hands to wipe them away.

"He was something," he whispered hoarsely, gazing up at Lucius' face, a pale blur swimming in the current of his tears. "He was _everything_."

For a long moment nothing happened. The room was silent but for Harry's racking sobs that seemed to echo through the cavernous room.

"I'm taking you to the Dark Lord. He'll be most pleased to see you."

Harry could feel himself being pulled roughly to his feet. Being upright drained the tears from his eyes; they flowed down his cheeks, enabling him to see clearly again.

He knew he should not, but he had to.

He let his eyes rest upon the still body on the floor. Draco was lying on his side, his eyes closed and his arm outstretched, the fallen wand inches from his hand.

_He could be sleeping._

But Draco's chest wasn't rising and falling with each peaceful breath. His hair wasn't tousled gently from sleep, but soaked with sweat and dust and the slightest trickle of blood.

Lucius' hand cuffed Harry's head roughly; the latter hunched his shoulders and let himself be shoved forward, tearing his eyes away from the immobile body and feeling them burn with tears.

"Draco," he whispered.

Lucius hit him again, and Harry let out a sob. He stumbled forward, unable to breathe easily through his bindings, feeling his tears run down his face and his chest ache with a pain that came nowhere close to being physical.

He walked away, still crying, feeling the point of Lucius' wand pressed threateningly into his back and stumbling over his feet; he didn't have the strength to lift them properly.

And in the doorway he tried to stop, tried to turn around, to see him again, a last time…

"Move!"

And Harry Potter left the room with his head down and his body bound with ropes, unable to do anything but put one foot in front of the other and feel the tears dripping down his face and the never-ending pain in his heart.

And Draco Malfoy lay forgotten on the floor, forever immobilized, his hand reaching for the wand he would never again use, a broken toy soldier thrown to the floor whose pieces would never be salvaged, the one Harry loved whose promises would never be fulfilled.

END PART III


	11. Part IV, 11

**Get ready for some darkness in Part IV, y'all. This is what my disturbed little mind comes up with under the influence of Garbage's _#1 Crush _and RED's _Out From Under_. ;)**

**Reviewers are loved! **

**Enjoy! :)**

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><p>PART IV<p>

_Caught in the darkness, I go blind_

_But can you help me find my way out?_

_Nobody hears me, I suffer the silence_

_Can you tell me it's over now?_

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><p>There was nothing anymore.<p>

Harry's vision was clouded by the veil of his tears, his ears rang with the sound of Lucius' voice shouting the incantation. He walked in front of the man with his head down and his feet dragging.

_Let them see the Boy Who Lived now_, he thought miserably.

"Move," the voice growled behind him. A large hand shoved him forward roughly; Harry stumbled, his reflexes still alert enough to catch him.

"Faster!"

Harry let himself be led like a dog on a leash; he was much too exhausted to fight. There was nothing to fight for anymore.

The sun had risen enough so that Harry could see his surroundings. He and Lucius were standing at the edge of the school grounds, just as close to the boundary as they could be without going beyond.

"Stop!"

Lucius' hand grabbed Harry's shoulder and yanked him to a halt before Harry could think of following the order on his own. He stood shivering in the cold morning air as Lucius lifted his wand and waved it. Harry stared numbly across the dew-covered grounds of Hogwarts, shaking in his bonds and trying not to look at the forest, or the lake, or any of the places that he and Draco had ever been to together.

_Draco!_ Harry cried out desperately, soundlessly, but there was no answer.

_Please come back! Please, I need you!_

Harry let out a gasping sob, feeling the sting of tears return to his eyes. He wished he could lift his hand and dash them away, but his arms were bound to his sides.

A sudden flash of light blazed across Harry's vision—_no!_ He screamed aloud and leaped backwards, throwing himself off balance and crashing hard to the ground. Panic shot through him like lightning—_no, not again, no! _He screamed again, trying to get away, trying not to let it get anywhere near—

"Potter! What the hell—"

Hands suddenly yanked Harry into a sitting position; he looked up, shaking violently, into Lucius' face.

"What is the matter with you?" the man growled angrily. "I was sending a Patronus to the Dark Lord." He jabbed a finger behind them; Harry could see a silver peacock flying quickly over the grounds back toward the castle.

Lucius smiled nastily. "He'll want to know where you are."

Harry couldn't speak between each frantic breath. He felt as though he couldn't get enough air—or was he getting too much? What if he started choking? There was no way that Lucius would help him! He wanted to scream but couldn't find his breath.

Without warning a sharp pain exploded against his cheek, and Harry recoiled with a cry, his skin stinging from Lucius' blow.

"I said, get moving, Potter! I've got to get you back."

Lucius dragged Harry to his feet and shoved him forward; Harry could barely walk now for his violent trembling. They crossed between the main gates and Lucius pulled him to a halt.

"Stop a minute."

Harry did, and he waited, daring to lift his eyes enough to see back through the gates and across the grounds of Hogwarts. The sun was rising, throwing brilliant pink and orange light over the landscape, bathing everything in a warm, welcoming glow. There was the lake, sunlight glinting off its surface, reminding Harry of all the times he and Draco had sat on the banks with their feet in the water, letting the gentle waves lap at their legs and talking, just talking, for hours…

Harry's eyes burned with fresh tears.

_It's so beautiful. And he'll never see it again._

"Potter!"

Harry jumped as Lucius grasped his shoulder tightly. He lifted his head and without warning he was experiencing Side-Along Apparition, his stomach churning with the suddenness of it as well as the sensation. His feet hit solid ground again; he doubled over and retched, trying valiantly to keep his feet underneath him, although spots were dancing at the edges of his vision.

Dizzy, he stumbled against Lucius; the man shoved him upright, cursing. "We're here."

Harry looked up, blinking against the tears and the spots that clouded his vision. He was able to make out high yew hedges, an imposing wrought-iron gate…and a huge house. Malfoy Manor.

"No, no, no," he groaned, shaking his head. "No, this is—I can't—"

"Shut up," Lucius hissed, pushing Harry forward. "Get inside."

Still trembling, Harry led the way between the hedges beyond the gate, trying to quell the nausea he felt rising slowly but surely up inside him, trying in vain to keep his mind blank.

_He walked on this path. This was his house, his home. But_ _he's not…not here…_

And he saw it once again before his inner eyes, as clearly as if it were happening all over again. The emerald light exploded with the force of a supernova, the sound of the wand hitting the stone floor echoed and amplified in volume, and Draco Malfoy seemed to fall in slow motion, his eyes, his beautiful eyes, closing forever.

Harry wanted to scream as the images threatened to consume him. They attacked with the viciousness of the hunter that knows the weakness of its prey only too well and will stop at nothing. They clawed at him, struck him with amazing force, and swirled around him like a vortex, making him wish that he could just let go and drown, sink to the bottom, into the darkness, lose himself, close his eyes…

_And he'll be there…_

Harry stopped walking, his whole body shaking violently, wishing that he could…

"What the hell is the matter with you? Move!"

Lucius struck Harry across the back of his head; the latter yelped and stumbled forward, nearly falling but catching himself just in time.

_There's nothing left here for me anymore._


	12. Part IV, 12

The wooden door creaked open, revealing nothing beyond it but darkness. Harry barely had time to blink before Lucius removed his bonds and shoved him forward. Harry fell through the open doorway and down a short flight of steps, tasting blood as his teeth snapped down on his tongue. He coughed and rolled onto his back on the stone floor, carefully replacing his glasses onto his face—one of the frames had shattered—and looking up at Lucius' silhouette against the light on the other side of the doorway.

"Be a good boy and stay there, Potter," Lucius growled. "The Dark Lord will be back soon, and I'm not going to invite you into the kitchen for a cup of tea while we wait."

He slammed the door, leaving Harry in complete darkness. He drew in a long, shuddering breath and lay back down, letting his head rest on the cold stone and feeling a shiver run down his back. He hated this choking blackness; it reminded him of the broom closet he had been standing in before the battle started—only a few hours ago, but it felt like a lifetime—looking at the picture of Draco, smiling to remember the day it had been taken…

Harry squeezed his eyes shut against the blackness and hugged himself tightly, trying to repel the memories that sent painful spears through his severed heart, making it bleed, destroying it completely.

He hated them, and yet he loved them.

He couldn't have explained it, but some part of him reached for the memories, wished to live in them again, back in the times of happiness and contentment and love. Back in the times of no war, no fear, no pain, no grief, no death.

But at the same time, he shied away from the memories, wished to be rid of the images that haunted his mind. They were relentless, never letting him relax, always needing to remind him of the pure, honest panic lighting Draco's eyes as he spun around, taking his gaze, his focus, off of Lucius, the one who wanted to kill him, to look at Harry.

_He turned around when…when I screamed. I screamed, and he got distracted—he thought I was hurt—it's _my_ fault, it's _all_ my fault!_

Harry's voice echoed violently off the blank walls as he screamed into the darkness, giving voice to his terrible grief, tasting the blood still in his mouth and feeling it coating his lips. He cared nothing for it, he cared nothing for anything else.

_He's dead and it's my fault! I as good as killed him myself! _

The words seared through his mind like the hottest fire. Harry screamed again and again, clawing at his arms with his fingernails and drawing himself into a ball on the floor. He choked on the blood in his mouth and swiped his hand across his tongue, smearing crimson along his palm and wrist. He kept screaming until the shock of his realization began to morph to panic, and as he felt himself begin to lose control he quieted, breathing hard, his shirt damp with sweat and his eyes wide and wary but unable to penetrate the darkness. He drew his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms tightly around them, feeling completely vulnerable and undefended without a wand.

He jumped as the door of the cellar was unlocked and two Death Eaters marched inside, one of them holding up a lamp and letting light flood the cellar. Harry scrambled over to the nearest wall, pressing his back against it and shaking with fear.

"What do you know, it really is Potter," said the Death Eater with the lamp, smirking cruelly down at Harry. "I thought Lucius had finally lost his mind."

"Looks like he ain't the only one," the other said, with a gesture at Harry. "Looks more like Wormtail than Harry Potter, shivering like that."

The harsh laughter of both of them reached Harry's ears and invaded his head, making him press his back more firmly against the cold wall. He hated the sound; their laughs were nothing like Draco's had been: so full of light, so welcome, especially when Harry had been the one to make him laugh… He tried to move away, but the two Death Eaters stopped laughing and approached him, their eyes narrowed menacingly.

"Oh, no you don't, Potter," one of them said, outstretching his arms. "We're under orders to take you to the Dark Lord."

Harry's heartbeat roared in his ears and he squeezed his eyes shut tightly, swallowing some of the blood in his mouth and hoping fervently that this was all some mistake, that he was not here, trapped in a dark cellar between a wall and two threatening Death Eaters, that he was really somewhere else, anywhere else, having this nightmare and that he would wake in a few moments to be staring at the ceiling of the Room of Requirement and that Draco, the light sleeper that he was, would be awake and leaning over him with a concerned expression on his face, ready to reassure him that it had all been a bad dream….

The Death Eaters' hands closed around Harry's arms and he yelled with shock as they dragged him to his feet. He thrashed wildly against them, but they were much stronger; they easily pulled him up the stairs from the cellar and into the large room that lay beyond it. So many people were there, and Harry's wide eyes were able to take in all of the faces within heartbeats. There was the pale, crimson-eyed face of Lord Voldemort, sitting comfortably in a chair at the far end of the room like a king on his throne. Lucius stood next to him, shifting restlessly from foot to foot. Narcissa Malfoy stood in the corner behind her husband. Her head was down and the tendrils of her long blonde hair were hiding her face, but Harry could see tears dripping silently to the floor. Severus Snape was standing on Voldemort's other side, looking as calm and collected as always. But when he fixed his black eyes on Harry, their depths churned with such startling complexity that Harry looked away.

"Ah, Harry," Voldemort purred, his blood-red eyes coming to rest on Harry and the two Death Eaters that held him. "So nice of you to join us this evening."

Harry struggled against the two men, but they were strong and he was badly weakened by his ordeal; they held him firmly in place.

"Tonight we celebrate," Voldemort said smoothly, "our victory over the people of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. While they have fought valiantly, we won in the end, as they should have known we would."

Harry tried to jam his elbow into the stomach of one of the Death Eaters; the man held him easily at bay.

"We have suffered losses," Voldemort said, a note of fake-sounding sympathy creeping into his tone. "Bellatrix, for one. Such a shame."

In the corner, Narcissa gave a quiet sob. Nobody paid her any attention.

"And young Draco as well," the silky voice continued, now sounding bored. "Perhaps this battle was too much for him. Perhaps he was not as useful as I would have liked him to be."

Harry's head snapped up as he heard the condescending words. Anger flooded him like lava, flowing through his veins in place of blood, tingeing his vision with red.

_He was as brave as any of my people! You're not even worthy to say his name!_

Harry threw his full weight forward; the Death Eaters stumbled as he caught them off guard and yanked them forward a few feet before they dug their heels into the carpet and pulled him back. He yelled with rage and thrashed violently, twisting his head around to sink his teeth into the arm of one of the Death Eaters. The man yelled and released the grip on his shoulder; Harry kicked out against the other Death Eater, using his free arm to reach for the wand that was sticking out of his pocket. His fingers closed over it, but before he could say a spell, the other Death Eater recovered and grabbed Harry's legs, holding them tightly, immobilizing them. Harry slashed the air with the wand, screaming defiance, and Voldemort bellowed, "_Restrain him!_"

Immediately the two Death Eaters seemed to rejuvenate, both of them seeming to recover their strength as they each got a better hold on Harry and threw him to the floor. Lucius flew out of nowhere and joined the fray, landing a hard blow with his fist on Harry's jaw and making him shriek with pain. One of the other Death Eaters kicked him in the ribs with a heavy boot, and Harry twisted frantically in an attempt to get away. The wand was wrenched out of his hand. His arm was mercilessly twisted back with a strong hand as another of Lucius' blows landed squarely on his cheekbone and made pain burst to life in the left side of his face.

Everything seemed to explode inside Harry's mind with frightening force. Lucius was beating him with reckless abandon, his gray eyes blazing and his tightly clenched fists a blur as they appeared out of nowhere. Blows fell like rain all over Harry's body, making him scream out with pain. He could feel blood pouring from his nose. The other two Death Eaters were trying to restrain Harry by pinning his legs and arms to the floor; finally they gave up and one of them flung himself across Harry's chest, driving the breath from him. He gasped for air as his head began to swim with sheer terror and agony. Sounds hurt inside his head; everything was much too loud. The blood was roaring in his ears; he could hear Narcissa sobbing, Lucius cursing, and the two Death Eaters yelling as they fought to restrain him.

Harry strained against the pressure of the man lying across his body, twisting frantically, trying to escape. The other Death Eater forced his head back against the floor and his eyes suddenly connected with crimson gaze of Lord Voldemort. On the deathly pale face was a sort of pleasant, calm expression that indicated he found the whole thing amusing. Hatred filled Harry like fatal poison, but it quickly turned to terror, paralyzing him instantly. A scream ripped from his throat as he watched, with clear, frightening detail, Lucius' fist fly down at him—

And then there was darkness.


	13. Part IV, 13

**I'd like to give a quick shout-out to MirrorFlower and DarkWind and Silver-Raven22. Stay awesome! :D**

**And one to Haagen-Das, for being the kind of supporter every writer needs :)**

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><p>The first thing Harry was aware of was <em>pain<em>.

He could still taste the metallic tang of blood on his tongue and he could smell it and feel its warm stickiness on his face. He feebly lifted a hand to his forehead and it came away wet. He couldn't see the blood on his fingers; he was once again surrounded with complete blackness. He guessed that he had been returned to the cellar.

Harry tried to move and instantly gasped as flickers of pain shot through him. His head was the worst; his cheekbone and jaw stung where Lucius had struck him, and his pulse sent waves of pain through his head with every beat. He groaned quietly and closed his eyes, trying to take deep breaths.

_How long was I out? Why didn't they kill me?_

The stone floor was uncomfortable; he tried to shift but he was instantly greeted with a strong wave of pain and he gave up, gritting his teeth and panting. His chest felt as though he had had the wind knocked out of him and hadn't quite recovered yet; it was difficult to breathe. His arm still burned as it had when the Death Eater had twisted it, and it brought back a memory. Harry went still, gazing off into the darkness as his mind pulled to the surface the details of this particular memory, a time when he had suffered similar pain…

* * *

><p>"<em>Good one, Harry. Are you okay?" Draco called as he landed nearby on his Nimbus Two Thousand and One. "That was a nasty fall."<em>

"_Actually, no," Harry answered, clenching his teeth with the burning pain in his arm. "My arm—I think I just sprained it."_

"_Merlin," Draco breathed, crouching down and reaching forward. Harry braced himself, but Draco's fingers were extraordinarily gentle as they probed at the injury. "How did you manage that?"_

"_Landed on it," Harry muttered, feeling more and more like an idiot the longer he kept lying on the ground of the Quidditch pitch. "Can't you go and get Madam Pomfrey or someone?"_

"_Actually," Draco said, studying Harry's arm critically. "I think I know a spell for this."_

"_Really?" Harry asked doubtfully. The last time someone had attempted to fix one of his arms with magic he had ended up with no bones left in it. "Are you sure?"_

"_Pretty sure. Why?" Draco looked up and met Harry's eyes. "Don't you trust me?"_

"_I…" Harry was at a loss for words. His past experiences were setting off warning bells in his head, but his present mind was considering the question and coming up with the answer. There was no one else he trusted like this._

"_Yes," he heard himself saying. "I do trust you."_

_Draco smiled and took his wand from a fold in his robes. "Don't worry," he said as he gently laid the tip against Harry's skin. "I'll be careful."_

_Harry closed his eyes against the pain and turned his head away. He heard Draco's voice murmur a few words, and then he could feel a strange tingling sensation in his arm. He opened his eyes quickly to see Draco grinning with self-satisfaction. "There you go."_

_Harry flexed his arm; to his amazement the pain was completely gone._

"_Not bad, hm?" Draco said with a teasing smirk, twirling his wand deftly in his fingers._

"_Thanks," Harry said gratefully, standing up and offering his hand to Draco. _

_The blonde let Harry pull him to his feet and smiled. "You're welcome."_

"_I owe you one," Harry said. _

_Draco shrugged. "We'll see. But in the meantime…" He retrieved his broomstick and kicked off from the ground, hovering level with Harry's shoulder and looking down at him with eyes narrowed in mock-hostility. "You're going down, Potter. Don't think I'm going to do that for you in a real match."_

_Harry grinned. "Think again, Malfoy," he bantered back as he mounted his Firebolt and ascended into the sky, feeling the cool morning breeze tug at his hair and noticing the way that its coldness added a pink hue to Draco's pale cheeks. _

"_Are you ready?" Draco called, crouching low over the handle of his broom._

"_Never better," Harry replied, mirroring Draco's posture and preparing to urge his broom into top speed._

_Draco grinned sideways at him. "Then let's fly."_

* * *

><p>Harry surfaced from the memory abruptly, blinking a few times as it dwindled away. He could feel a lump growing in his throat as he held up the images before his inner eyes, admiring each one: the concerned look in Draco's eyes, the playful smirk that adorned his face, the way that the cold wind lifted his hair and played with it the way Harry had liked to when it was just the two of them, until Draco got annoyed at him and made him stop…<p>

Harry bit his lip fiercely and tasted more blood. He shut his eyes against the blackness and tried fervently to keep the tears at bay, but it suddenly became too overwhelming. The single memory had brought a thousand more to his mind at once; Harry remembered how he had always tried to sneak up on Draco and hug him from behind, and how Draco would always catch him, how during Christmas holidays they had liked to sit by the fireplace in the Great Hall together and watch the flames crackle for hours, how Draco would snap at the first years that had had too much sugar at dessert and would run by, shrieking loudly, and the way he would stare them down until they would nervously retreat.

Harry sank his teeth into his wrist to keep from crying out, but he could not stop the tears from coming now. There was nothing he could do to hold back the torrent of grief that flooded him, swept him up and carried him, pulled him under and held him there to drown. He drew his knees up to his chest, feeling the stabs of pain in his ribs and recoiling, crying out with combined agony and grief, giving in to the pain of the wounds in his body as well as his heart.

"_Draco!_" he screamed, flinching as his voice ricocheted off the walls but desperate to get what he wanted. "_Draco!_"

Harry's chest burned with the effort of drawing breath and his shirt soon became soaked with sweat, but he would not let himself quiet. Somewhere, somehow, if he screamed loud enough, hard enough, there would be someone who would see how horribly this was hurting him, and to help him they would give him Draco back—

"POTTER!"

Harry yelped in terror as the door of the cellar suddenly flew open and blinding light came pouring in. Lucius stood in the doorway, looking furious.

"Shut up! What is _wrong _with you?"

Blind anger flooded Harry, mingling with his terror. "Give him back to me!" he snarled, baring his teeth at the man. "Give him back or I'll—"

"What are you _talking _about?"

"Draco!" Harry yelled, crawling towards Lucius on his hands and knees, pointing his finger threateningly and gasping at the pain in his chest and arm. "You have to—to give him back _now!_"

"You're insane, Potter!" Lucius shouted. "I can't—"

"Wand," Harry panted. "I need…spell…_Accio!_ _Accio Draco!_" he shouted, brandishing his hand at the walls.

"Potter, _what_—"

"_Give him back!_" Harry screamed, his wide eyes meeting Lucius' through the darkness. "Please—I'll—I'll do anything!"

"Shut up!"

"Please!" Harry begged, lurching in Lucius' direction, crawling towards the man on weakened limbs. "Please—I need him! I _love _him!"

Lucius froze. He stood stock-still in the doorway, his wand in his hand, his gray eyes wide and shocked as they gazed down at Harry. Harry screamed wordlessly, voicing his frustration that Lucius did not understand. He was desperate; he would do anything if only the man would perform a spell and give Draco back to him again.

"_Please!_" Harry yelled with increasing desperation as he dragged himself up the stairs, reaching for the hem of Lucius' robes, looking up at the man, praying for him to understand him—

And without warning he was thrown head over heels by an invisible force, a spell. He hit the stone floor hard and yelped as his body exploded with pain. He curled weakly into a ball; his jaws gaped wide in a voiceless yell of agony.

Harry did not know how much longer he could bear it, for as Lucius slammed the door and he was once again engulfed in the choking blackness, he could feel something of himself dying along with the light on the other side.

* * *

><p>It is difficult to live in the darkness when one is used to light. Numbing cold is a shock when warmth is what the body is accustomed to. Pain has seldom been preferred to pleasure.<p>

Harry was hardly conscious of any of it anymore. Not the aching hunger, nor the burning pain. His body shivered with the cold but his mind remained ignorant, oblivious. His physical eyes accepted the darkness, but the eyes inside his mind reached blindly for the light. And sometimes he was able to find light in the form of the memory of sunlight shining softly down on Draco's face, or just the light in his gray eyes when he smiled or laughed.

But without warning the soft light would change to a cruel green. And it would be no longer welcome but terrifying, uncontrollable, dangerous. But predictable. Always predictable. The light would strike, make its move, and _he_ would fall, collapse with agonizing slowness, always the same, never different. But it never failed to plunge the sword into Harry's heart, never failed to make him gasp for breath through his sobs, which were gradually becoming weaker and weaker.

Hours passed, day slipped into night. But there was nothing that mattered less anymore.

The world was gone.

The cold he felt did not have the energy to pierce him mercilessly, the stone he lay upon did not have the motivation to dig itself into his bones. The world was lifeless, as lifeless as the one Harry loved.

Harry could no longer feel, all he could do was close his eyes and simply _be_. He did not know what he was supposed to do, if anything, anymore.

_Draco_.

If he held onto that name, he would be okay somehow.

_Draco._

The single word.

_Draco_.

The boy.

_Draco._

Him_._

_Draco._

_Harry._

_Draco? Is that you?_

_It's me. I'm okay. Come with me and you will be too._

_I'm sorry, I don't understand…_

_You will soon. _

Harry didn't know what he had to do, and as he felt the achingly familiar presence retreat he wished for air, and for a voice, so that he could scream again, or cry. But he had no breath left to draw, no tears left to shed.

And then he was gently, softly, slipping away. There was no more stone, no more hunger, no more pain. His mind was strengthening along with his body, and he was back on his feet again. And he was running, nearly flying, unable to see but no longer afraid.

_Draco? _he called.

_I'm here. Come toward my voice. You're not far._

_I missed you. _

_I never doubted it._

END PART IV


	14. Part V, 14

**This is it! The final part of the story! Thank you to all who reviewed and favorited!**

**I'd like to say an extra-special, tackle-you-and-mess-up-your-hair-because-you-always-mess-up-mine thank you to the fabulous SatyrsUnite :) Without you, this story would be nothing.**

**And another thanks to Haagen-Das, who never fails to make me (and my writing skills) feel appreciated. Can't say how grateful I am :)**

**I would highly recommend listening to the song _Somewhere _by Within Temptation. It's a beautiful song and I listened to it while I wrote this, so it really helps set the mood. :)**

**Enjoy! :D Hope this doesn't disappoint!**

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><p>PART V<p>

_I'm holding on to you…_

_I'm holding on to you…_

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><p>The first thing he realized was that there was light, and he felt as though he could not get enough of it. Harry's green gaze fixed itself upon the flame dancing at the top of one of the torches that lined the corridor. It was almost as though the mere sight of the fire was flooding him with warmth, rejuvenating him.<p>

Outside the nearby window, he could see the night sky: as black as ink, with a claw scratch of a crescent moon surrounded by incredibly bright stars. Harry could feel himself becoming mesmerized by such beauty; he blinked and rubbed his eyes before realizing that he was not wearing his glasses. It did not matter, however; in the torchlight, he could see perfectly clearly. He smiled to himself, managing to tear his gaze from the outside world and focus instead on where he was. To his left, the corridor stretched on until it was lost in shadow. To his right was a large expanse of completely blank wall, lit by the torches.

And he recognized it.

The corner of his mouth upturned into a small smile. He ventured a step forward, fixing his eyes on the blank wall. Even though it was simple, he still recognized it, and with the recognition came a stream of memories; quickly yet gently, they pooled in his mind like shining drops of liquid. They were familiar yet different somehow; he remembered the sensations of anger, of fear, of pain, of grief, remembering how it felt to feel them instead of feeling them as one usually does when recalling a memory. He saw flashes of them, flickering snapshots come and gone in such little time, yet he was able to see each one with astonishing clarity: a fireplace, a red-and-gold tie, a wand. Sensations mingled with the images: a sickening jolt shooting through him as a jet of emerald light pierced the air, a fist of fear holding him firmly as he gazed at a photograph. And there were faces, too, so many: Ron, with his vibrant red hair uncombed and his Gryffindor tie thrown carelessly around his neck; Hermione, with her untamable hair momentarily restrained in a plait and a kind smile lighting her face; Neville, his round face flushed and worried-looking as usual but at the same time holding a sort of plain honesty; Luna, her long blonde hair loose over her shoulders and her radish-like earrings quivering as she turned her head to look at whatever had just captured her attention.

One by one, each person who had ever given Harry their respect, their assets, their friendship, and even their love streamed past his inner eyes, making him smile. And then, as if it had all been leading up to this, a final image revealed itself to Harry. White-blonde hair. Gray eyes. Pointed features. Chin lifted haughtily, eyes hardened and cold. Hostile.

Harry waited.

Slowly, the ice in the gray eyes began to melt, just enough to reveal a spark of friendliness shining underneath. As Harry watched, a smile began to appear on the boy's face, becoming more genuine than false, more gentle than mocking, and much more beautiful.

The ice in Draco Malfoy's eyes dissolved completely, removing its cloudy presence and making the eyes look much more silver than gray.

Harry smiled.

Lifting his head from the river of memories, he gazed at the solid wall that stood before him.

He remembered everything, and yet he remembered nothing.

He was everything he had been, and everything he had yet to be.

There was no more past, and there was no more future.

There was only the present, and the wall in front of him.

Harry stepped forward, his bare feet whispering over the floor. He turned and began to walk back and forth in front of the wall, repeating a phrase in his mind as his lips subconsciously formed the words.

With amazing silence, a door appeared, wood springing from the stone as effortlessly as a leaf falling from a tree. Harry turned to face it, and for a moment stood where he was, an unwavering smile on his lips.

_I'll be right there,_ he promised.

He reached out for the handle of the door, knowing that to anyone else it would be firmly locked, unwelcoming, forbidden.

But to him, and the one he knew he would meet, it was anything but.

The door slid open soundlessly, and Harry stepped through. The light was dim, but it made the room feel warm and comforting. Harry inhaled deeply and let the air leave him as slowly as it wished. He closed the door behind him.

"Harry."

He smiled. There was no one else who said his name that way.

The boy sitting on the end of the bed stood up and padded towards him on bare feet that made soft whispering noises against the carpet. He approached without hesitance and without boldness, a smile lighting his face.

Harry stayed where he was, feeling something inside him uncurl like a flower, something that had been denied what it wanted, what it needed, for too long.

Draco reached him, his gray eyes brimming with happiness as he looked at Harry's face.

"I'm here," Harry said to him.

Draco reached out a hand and Harry took it. Their fingers met and intertwined, holding tight as though they were afraid of letting go.

"I missed you, too." Draco's voice, spoken across the small band of space between them, reached Harry. He tightened his hold on Draco's hand.

"I'm sorry," Draco whispered, his eyes downcast.

Harry shook his head. "Don't."

Draco tilted his head, and Harry met his eyes. And in the brief meeting of their eyes, they were able to come to an understanding.

"You are something, Harry Potter."

He had the briefest of moments to smile before Draco leaned in and pressed his lips to Harry's. And there was nothing anymore, nothing to distract, nothing to destroy, nothing to do anything to take away this moment. It was theirs, and theirs forever.

They could each feel the other smiling through the kiss, because they both knew it.

And they relaxed enough to let go of the other's hand, if they wanted to. But they kept their fingers tightly interlocked as they stepped deeper into the room, back towards the bed, letting the familiar feeling of the usual nighttime weariness seep into them. They didn't let go of the other's hand as they pulled back the blankets and slipped beneath them, arranging themselves comfortably. Harry laid his head against Draco's shoulder. The other boy closed his eyes and his breathing deepened as he slipped gently away into sleep, his hand still held tightly in Harry's. Harry took a moment longer to gaze at the face of the person that he loved, asleep and peaceful, out of reach of all the troubles that had once been his to bear.

He closed his eyes and thought about the warmth of Draco's body pressed against his own, about the matching rhythm of their breathing, about the way their hands, still intertwined, rested between them. The way their hearts slowed to the same identical beat, steady and calm.

Harry smiled.

He was here again, in Draco's arms, in a familiar place, a familiar room, somewhere he felt safe, and happy, and loved.

And, he decided, there was no place else he would rather be.

END PART V


	15. Author's Note

First off, I'd love to give a shout-out to everyone who reviewed, favorited, or even just enjoyed the story. I really can't express how much I appreciate it :)

Secondly, for all those interested, a few months ago I wrote an alternate ending at the request of SatyrsUnite ;) It's basically how things would've turned out if Draco had lived. Is anyone interested in reading it? I could just post it as an extra chapter...

Please review or PM me and let me know if you're interested :)

-Diamondsgirl


	16. Alternate Ending

**As requested, the alternate ending! It picks up towards the end of Part III, but I think it's pretty straightforward.**

**Read, review, love! :)**

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><p>"<em>AVADA KEDAVRA!<em>"

As his father's voice rent the air, Draco spun back around, his eyes wide with terror, his heart nearly splitting in two as a lance of adrenaline pierced through it—

And suddenly he was nothing, nothing but a whisper of what he had been, and he was broken, yet he was still intact, and he was walking away, letting the shadows welcome him into their cold arms.

But just before their shaded presences wrapped around him, another voice pierced Draco's consciousness with all the ferocity of a bolt of lightning.

"_NO!_"

Draco's eyes had begun to close, but as the desperation in that single word registered, they flew wide open, searching for the owner of that panicked voice.

But the shadows were persistent; they wreathed around him, whispering to him in their soft voices. Their words were laced with dark venom, but they welcomed him gently. Draco felt himself beginning to let go, but the terror of the person that had screamed was too important.

_He is important, isn't he? He's someone I—Harry. Harry Potter._

His mind, although already partially saturated with the shadows' poison, remembered that simple name as easily as he remembered his own.

_Harry Potter. _

If he had spoken the words aloud, Draco knew that they would have tasted sweet on his tongue.

_Just as sweet as his kiss. _

A fractured memory surfaced: Eyes the striking green of summer grass fluttered closed and soft locks of disheveled black hair brushed against Draco's forehead as they both leaned a little closer. Their lips met and the two of them were locked together, bonded in ways they each could only have imagined at before they found each other.

_That was our last kiss, before…_

Draco had begun to relax under the presence of the memory, and the shadows had taken advantage of his weakness. They tightened their hold on him, still whispering urgently. Their words were veiled threats, sweet promises. Draco might have surrendered, but a few simple words chose that moment to settle in his mind and set themselves alight.

"_You'll never lose me."_

The words were spoken in his own voice, quiet, but very honest.

"_Promise?" _

Harry's voice, a note of hopefulness daring to show itself.

"_Promise." _

Draco could sense the firmness with which he had spoken the single word.

_I promised him. I promised him, and—no!_

Draco fought against the shadows, a sort of panicked determination flooding through him as he reared back from their cold grip. _Let me go! _

_No._

_Let me go! _

Harry's scream, now only an echo but just as terror-stricken, sounded again in Draco's mind. Fury filled him. _NOW!_

He was strong, but the shadows were stronger. Draco clawed at them in a last attempt, terror beginning to seep into him.

_Help me!_

If he had been able, he would have gasped for air. But he was beyond that now…he was sinking, his eyes closing…

"_No! Draco!_"

The voice, torn from the throat of someone racked with fury and terror and the worst kind of grief, seemed to reach Draco from a great distance. But there was no mistaking its owner.

_I'm here! _Draco screamed silently. _I'm—_

The darkness surrounding him tightened its grip, and he fought back, desperation shooting through him like sparks.

_Help me!_

* * *

><p>"I'm staying with you."<p>

"No—I can't let you."

"I want to."

"You'll be killed!"

"Then I'll die next to you, and I can't think of a better way."

"Do you have any idea how _stupid_ you're being?"

"No more so than you."

"I really can't change your mind?"

"You've never been able to before."

_This is dying, right? It must be. And I meant what I said to him then, every word. But I can't be dying, can I? I can't be losing him…and he can't be losing me…_

"Harry…I love you.

"I love you too, Draco."

"I mean it. Really, if we make it through this…I'll propose to you."

_I remember how he smiled when I said that—once the initial shock wore off, that is. But he really did look happy, so happy… It's almost hard to believe. I've always wanted that with him, but until then I don't think I ever really thought that he'd want it with me._

"I want… I want to do what makes me happy."

_It's now or never._

"Harry James Potter, will you marry me?"

"Of course, Draco."

_He was so surprised when I mentioned it the first time, but he was so ready with his answer when I asked him for real. And the way he smiled at me…the way he gave me his answer, so readily…it just made me want that with him even more—no, not want. It made me need that. I need him to be happy, to feel safe and loved, to properly live. And I think he needs me too._

"_AVADA KEDAVRA!_"

"_No! Draco!_"

_He's scared for me—he thinks he's lost me. But has he? I don't know…I don't feel dead, but I can't see him anymore. I can't see anything anymore. I can only hear his voice._

_Let me wake up. I have reason to live. Just let me wake up so I can see him again. I have to make sure he's okay. Just, please, if there's any way, any at all…let me go back to him. There's so much left undone. And my story—no, _our _story—isn't finished being written yet. _

* * *

><p>Even before Draco's eyes opened, he was conscious of simply <em>being<em>. He lay on his side on the cold stone floor, his arm extended towards a familiar wand—his mother's—which was lying mere inches from his hand.

_What happened to me?_

His body hurt all over, aching like a bruise. He opened his eyes as wide as he dared, and when he realized that he was alone, that there was no immediate danger, he made an effort to sit up. He pushed off of the floor with trembling hands and managed to get to his feet.

He turned his head and gasped.

Bellatrix lay frozen on the floor just across the room. Her eyes were open, and her teeth were still bared in her familiar manic snarl. She was dead, but Draco had to suppress a tingle of fear; she looked just as dangerous in death as she had been in life.

Draco retrieved his wand from the floor shakily and looked around him. The room was completely silent and empty but for himself and the immobile form of Bellatrix. But Draco was unsettled. The room felt as though someone had just left, someone who shouldn't have.

Draco bolted for the door.

* * *

><p>There was nothing anymore.<p>

Harry's vision was clouded by the veil of his tears, his ears rang with the sound of Lucius' voice shouting the incantation. He walked in front of the man with his head down and his feet dragging.

_Let them see the Boy Who Lived now_, he thought miserably.

"Move," the voice growled behind him. A large hand shoved him forward roughly; Harry stumbled, his reflexes still alert enough to catch him.

"Faster!"

Harry let himself be led like a dog on a leash; he was much too exhausted to fight. There was nothing to fight for anymore.

The sun had risen enough so that Harry could see his surroundings. He and Lucius were standing at the edge of the school grounds, just as close to the boundary as they could be without going beyond.

"Stop!"

Lucius' hand grabbed Harry's shoulder and yanked him to a halt before Harry could think of following the order on his own. He stared numbly across the dew-covered grounds of Hogwarts, trying not to look at the forest, or the lake, or any of the places that he and Draco had ever been to together.

_Draco!_ Harry cried out desperately, soundlessly, but there was no answer.

_Please come back! Please, I need you!_

Harry let out a gasping sob, feeling the sting of tears return to his eyes.

Lucius' arm grazed Harry's as the taller man suddenly whipped around. "Did you hear—"

Harry spun on the spot, his heart leaping into his throat—he too had heard the unmistakable rhythm of running footsteps. His wide green eyes fell on the person sprinting across the grass towards them and recognized him instantly, but he wasn't—he _couldn't_ be—

"NO!" Lucius screamed, his eyes blazing with disbelief.

"Harry, _move!_" Draco yelled desperately, raising his wand.

Obediently, mechanically, Harry leaped sideways as Draco took aim.

"_STUPEFY!_"

"_AVADA KE_—"

But Lucius was silenced as the bright red light of the Stunning Spell collided with him; he collapsed to the dew-soft grass at Harry's feet. Draco skidded to a halt, and Harry flung himself forward, pelting across the grass, his heart thrumming so violently he could feel its beat pulsing through his entire body. He couldn't believe it—there was no way it could be happening, but as the two of them met in a fierce embrace, Harry knew with every part of him that it _was_.

"Harry," Draco muttered against Harry's neck. "My god…you're okay."

"I thought you were dead!" Harry half-yelled, hysteria rising up in him as realization dawned. "Avada Kedavra—you fell—you _were _dead!"

"I don't know what happened," Draco said in a small voice. "But—he tried to kill me…he _wanted _to kill me…"

"That doesn't matter," Harry said firmly, holding Draco tightly against his chest. "You're safe."

"I always thought…" Draco trailed off. "I mean…I didn't think he'd…"

And Harry realized with a shock that Draco was trembling, ever so slightly, in his arms, that his hand had gone limp and the wand had fallen to the ground, that his gray eyes were shining and a single tear was slowly tracing a line down his cheek.

"Oh god, Draco," Harry murmured, pulling the other boy more tightly against him. "Come here…it's okay…"

Draco let himself be held, and Harry stroked his back as comfortingly as he could. A long minute passed before Draco pulled away, none too gently. Harry reluctantly let him go and watched as Draco retrieved his wand and walked over to the unmoving form of his father. With a quietly-spoken spell and a purposeful flick of Draco's wand, Lucius was suddenly bound tightly in chains.

"There," Draco muttered, just loudly enough for Harry to hear. "You're done fighting."

Harry was suddenly rooted to the spot as he remembered—the war wasn't over. The fighting was still going on. And he, Harry Potter, was the only one with the power to end it for the better.

"Draco," he gasped. "I'm so sorry—I've got to go."

Draco turned around with sad gray eyes. "I'll be here," he said. "I can't go back in."

"I might not come out," Harry reminded him.

They held eye contact for a long moment before Draco came forward and kissed Harry softly.

"If nothing else," he said quietly, holding Harry's gaze with his beautiful gray eyes. "Just remember that I loved you."

Harry swallowed hard and kissed Draco back fiercely, losing himself for one fiery moment in the burning love he felt. He didn't think he could speak, so he allowed this kiss to say the words for him.

They pulled apart, and Draco lightly shoved Harry away with one hand.

"Go."

Harry turned and sprinted back towards the castle. Every step took him closer to his future—and perhaps his destiny—but every step also took him farther away from the one person he wanted most to share the future with him.

* * *

><p>Draco couldn't turn around.<p>

He couldn't let what could so easily become his last memory of Harry be an image of the handsome black-haired boy running away from him and towards his death. No. He would keep the memory of how Harry had comforted him, how gently he had held him, how stable he had been when Draco had needed someone to support him. He would keep the sounds of Harry's whispered words, the gentle tone of his voice soothing and the words themselves heartfelt. He would keep the image of the emerald-green eyes smoldering with the sort of fierce loyalty and love that only Harry Potter was capable of giving, and, with them, the incredible knowledge that he, Draco Malfoy, was considered worth giving that love to.

Draco closed his eyes for a moment, trying to collect himself, before opening them again and gazing down at his father's immobile form at his feet. Stunned and bound, Lucius could pass as dead.

_He should be. He wanted to kill us, both of us. He deserves to be dead. _

Draco fingered the wand in his hand before he pointed it at Lucius, but he couldn't make himself speak the words. Not yet.

"_Ennervate_."

Lucius' eyes opened, and he stared hollowly up at Draco for a long moment before coming fully to his senses.

"Impossible," he spat, hatred spreading across his eyes like blood in water. "I _killed _you."

"You tried," Draco said coldly, letting an emotionless mask slide over his face. Lucius' fingers tightened threateningly around the wand in his hand; Draco immediately kicked it out of his grip.

Lucius strained against the chains, his eyes shining with venom. "I will never," he snarled, staring up at Draco, "forgive you for this."

"I never," Draco said back, imitating his father's tone, "thought you would."

"I didn't raise you to turn out like this," Lucius hissed, breathing hard. "You should have served your Lord, kept the Malfoy name spoken in tones of admiration. No one with my name"—his eyes blackened completely, becoming the darkest shadows—"becomes involved with another boy. Especially," he snarled, "_Especially _not Harry Potter."

Draco's eyes swept over his father, lying in the grass, bound in chains, with hatred in his eyes and venomous words dripping from his mouth. And he remembered Harry, standing beside him, holding his hand, with love in his eyes and honest words journeying from his mouth straight to Draco's heart.

He raised his wand.

"I don't want to," he told his father.

Lucius stared up at him in defiance, breathing heavily.

"But you tried to kill me, just because I love him. And you threatened him too. You would have killed him."

Lucius didn't move.

"But I love him, and I always will, and I wish…" Draco trailed off, but he didn't let his gaze stray or his voice waver. "I wish you could have accepted that. But it's too late now."

A very small part of him screamed that he would regret it. But his heart maintained its steady beat, his gaze stayed focused on the man lying at his feet, and his hand was steady as he aimed the wand.

"_Avada Kedavra_."

* * *

><p>Harry sprinted down the last corridor, approaching the open doors of the Great Hall. The war was still going strong, but the screams of the fighters did little to rival the sound of Harry's heartbeat thudding in his ears. He gripped the hawthorn wand tighter in his hand and ran the last few meters into the Hall.<p>

He caught sight of Voldemort immediately, but his breath hitched in his throat when he saw the scene properly. Ron and Neville were standing shoulder to shoulder, facing Voldemort bravely, but Ron's arm was still twisted and broken, and Neville's forehead was marred with blood.

Voldemort's laughter pierced the air as he sent a minor jinx at the two boys; Ron deflected it awkwardly with his left hand. Neville attempted a Stunning Spell, but Voldemort tossed the curse aside with the air of one batting away an insect and continued to laugh.

The blood sang in Harry's ears, drowning his heartbeat. He fired red sparks at the enchanted ceiling with Draco's wand, fury crackling through him like flame.

"Riddle!" he shouted.

Voldemort spun to face him; Ron and Neville merely looked stunned.

"Potter," Voldemort hissed, his crimson eyes burning like coals. "Come to surrender properly?"

"Not this time," Harry snarled, advancing.

"Let's try that again," Voldemort said, his gaze flicking briefly to Ron and Neville. "Surrender properly, Potter, and these two need not die now."

Immediately Ron's blue eyes and Neville's brown met Harry's behind Voldemort's back. Ron's expression was full of steadfast loyalty; there was no question that he was willing to die for Harry. Neville's expression showed clearly the strain of the war and the grief of a lost love, but he nodded as if to say, _It's okay._

Harry stepped even closer to Voldemort, holding Draco's wand out before him.

"No," he said.

Voldemort's eyes narrowed.

"We started this together," Harry said, meeting the crimson stare. "And that's how we'll end it. Nobody else is going to die for this, not tonight."

They regarded each other, and then, as if by unspoken command, reacted.

"_AVADA KEDAVRA!_"

The spell was spoken in two voices, but only one could have the upper hand. One was fueled by nothing but hatred, severed pride, and a burning hunger for power, while the other sang with loyalty to friends, to family, and to love.

Harry stepped forward, the wand outstretched and emerald fire blazing from it, and standing alongside him in spirit was everyone who he was fighting for: Ron, Hermione, Neville, Luna. Sirius, Lupin, Dumbledore. James and Lily. Draco, and the future they would share.

It was with these hearts beating alongside his that Harry watched the green flames engulf Tom Riddle's body. As he watched the wand slip from the pale-skinned hand and fall to the floor. As he watched the crimson eyes fly wide with disbelief and then close, cutting off all sight, cutting off all light.

And Harry watched as Lord Voldemort sank to the floor, never to rise again, just as James and Lily had done to protect their son, just as Luna and Fred had done to protect their friends. Just as Ron and Neville had been prepared to do, for him.

Just as Draco had done, but he alone had escaped to stand again.

Harry stared down at the immobile form of Voldemort for a long moment before Ron and Neville broke into elated yells. Death Eater after Death Eater turned to find their lord dead and Harry Potter standing over his body. And those of Harry's army threw themselves back into the fight with renewed vigor, Stunning and Petrifying with incredible speed.

But all Harry could do was continue to stand as his people flooded around him, yelling and crying and nursing injuries and firing sparks into the air. His disbelief was too much for him at first, but after a minute, his face split into a smile. And that smile didn't fade, not even when Hagrid picked him up and crushed the breath out of him with a hug.

The war was over. And he, Harry James Potter, had lived to see the life-changing end of it.

* * *

><p>Draco lifted his head when he heard footsteps behind him. He stood up quickly, not bothering to brush away the fresh earth clinging to his knees, and turned around, praying for this person to have a certain identity.<p>

Harry stood there, his hair messy and windswept and his eyes shining triumphantly. He stepped forward and pulled Draco into a hug. Overcome with relief, Draco closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around Harry, inhaling the other boy's scent and sinking into his presence.

_He's okay. He's okay._

"It's over," Harry murmured into Draco's ear. "It's over, and we've got everything ahead of us now."

"Everything?" Draco whispered.

Harry's eyes flickered with warmth. "Does that offer you made still stand?"

Draco laughed shortly. "Yes," he said, smiling into Harry's face. "Yes, it does. And now that—" He broke off.

"Now that what?" Harry asked.

Draco tore his gaze away from Harry's. "Now that my father is dead we can be a proper family," he whispered hoarsely.

"Your father is—" For a moment Harry looked too thunderstruck to speak. His green gaze flitted from Draco's face to the pile of freshly overturned earth at their feet and back again. "Draco, you didn't!"

"I did," Draco said, ashamed to feel hot tears prickling in his eyes.

"Why?"

"Because…" Draco trailed off at first, trying to choose the words that would make Harry understand. He focused his gaze on the brilliant green of Harry's eyes and willed himself to concentrate. "I would have been able to live with him not accepting you, or me, or us," he said. "But he tried to kill us, just because of our feelings for each other. It's not—" Draco broke off again, gritted his teeth briefly, and continued. "It's not something I can forgive."

"You really killed your father for trying to kill you?"

Draco lifted his chin defiantly. "I killed him for us," he said firmly. "Now forever is ours, and he can't do anything to take that away."

For a long moment, Harry was silent.

Then he stepped forward, leaned in, and pressed his lips to Draco's. Draco closed his eyes and slid his hands around Harry's neck, holding him close. Harry lifted his hands to Draco's face and caressed his skin softly.

Harry broke the kiss, leaving Draco breathless. He opened his eyes to see Harry gazing back at him, his expression deadly serious.

"If forever is ours now," he said, "I promise I'll make it worthwhile."

Overwhelmed, Draco kissed him, and as he did the world seemed to melt away. There was nothing but the two of them standing at the edge of the grounds of Hogwarts. They did not see the clouds steadily cover the sun, nor feel the slight rain that settled the dust around them. They forgot that at their feet was the final resting place of Lucius Malfoy. All they knew was the softness of the other's mouth on their own, the other's hands holding them close, and the love for each other that had gotten them both safely through the night.

* * *

><p>Harry pushed open the doors of the Great Hall with one hand, not willing to let go of Draco's with the other. As the two of them stepped into the Hall, many eyes turned to face them, some glinting with tears, some half-closed with exhaustion, some shining with triumph and relief.<p>

Neville stumbled up to them with his head heavily bandaged and his arm in a sling, but he hugged Harry with his good arm and smiled at Draco before walking past them out the doors of the Great Hall. Harry wondered if he was going to recover Luna's body.

Molly and Arthur Weasley stood with their arms around each other. George was on his knees beside Fred, who was lying peacefully on the floor of the Great Hall with his eyes closed, never to reopen. Harry closed his own eyes when the sounds of George's heartbroken sobs reached his ears.

Bill and Fleur stood beside the body of Kingsley Shacklebolt, their heads bowed respectfully. Seamus and Dean sat together in the corner, conversing quietly. Hagrid walked up to them and engulfed Harry into another hug.

"Yeh did it, Harry," he said, his beetle-black eyes shining. "It's good ter see yeh alive."

"Thanks," Harry responded, smiling up at Hagrid.

"An' Malfoy too," Hagrid added, nodding to Draco, who looked up at him.

"Call me Draco," he said tiredly, surprising Harry.

"Good ter see yeh alive too, then," Hagrid amended, "Draco."

Draco smiled.

"Have you seen Ron, Hagrid?" Harry asked.

"Sure, he's jus' over there," Hagrid said, pointing towards the far corner of the Great Hall. "Bin there for a while, think he's tryin' ter contact Hermione."

"Thanks, Hagrid," Harry said, walking towards Ron and gently pulling Draco after him. They weaved through the people crowding the Great Hall until they reached Ron.

When he heard their footsteps, he looked up and met Harry's eyes. "Harry!"

Harry let go of Draco's hand, stepped forward, and met Ron in a hug. Ron smiled at Harry when they pulled apart, but he looked worried.

"I've been trying to find Hermione with this," he explained, holding up the D.A. Galleon in his good hand. "I'm sure she has hers, but she's not answering me." Ron's eyes shone with worry. "I hope nothing's happened to her."

"I reckon she's just lying low," Harry said. "Hermione's smart enough to keep her head down for a while if she thinks we've been defeated. You'll find her, and let me know when you do."

Ron smiled and kept working with the coin. Harry turned to Draco and gently squeezed his hand.

Draco's head snapped up. "What?" he said, looking as though he'd just been awoken.

"You're falling asleep on your feet," Harry said, smiling at him. "Do you want to find somewhere you can lie down for a while?"

Draco rubbed his hand over his face. "I'm okay," he said.

"I'll come with you. I'm tired too."

Draco smiled. "In that case, sure."

Harry smiled back and told Ron they were leaving in case anyone missed them before he and Draco crossed the Hall to the doors and slipped through them.

"Where should we go?" Draco asked, slurring his words slightly with exhaustion.

"Room of Requirement?" Harry suggested. Draco agreed with a slight nod, and they began the walk across the castle. Now both of them were feeling the strain of the night they'd just gone through; their steps slowed and the few words they spoke to each other were mumbled quietly.

When at last they reached the expanse of blank wall, Harry let go of Draco's hand and paced back and forth in front of the wall, repeating a phrase in his mind: _We need a place to sleep for a while._

A door appeared and Harry reached for the handle, pulling it open and stepping through into a dark room. Draco followed and shut the door behind him.

The room they'd been given was small and warm. A large, inviting bed stood against the back wall, and the absence of lighting would make it easy to fall asleep. For a minute, they undressed in silence, toeing off shoes and slipping off jackets and laying wands down on the small bedside table.

Draco got in bed first and slid over to make room for Harry. After setting his glasses down next to his wand, Harry got in and felt Draco's arms encircle him as soon as he lay down. He smiled and pulled Draco close to him, resting their foreheads together.

"I still can't believe you're alive," he whispered. "I thought for sure—"

"I don't want to talk about it," Draco whispered back quietly.

"I'm sorry," Harry replied. "But it would've torn me apart. It did, when I thought that was what happened. I just wanted you to know that."

Draco was silent, and Harry was beginning to wish he hadn't said anything when the other boy spoke.

"I heard you scream."

"What?"

"When I was… I heard you scream, and I remembered your name, and…" Draco swallowed. "I remembered that I promised you I would never leave you, and I knew I was…I was breaking my promise."

"What are you saying?" Harry asked, slightly confused.

"I think I was dying, but…we weren't finished, Harry. Our story wasn't over. I realized that, and I fought, and…they let me go."

"You…" Harry struggled to find the words, "_chose_ to come back?"

Draco nodded silently.

"Because you heard…my voice?"

Draco nodded again and closed his eyes. "You sounded so scared, Harry," he whispered. "I couldn't leave you all alone like that."

For a moment, Harry was still, running through the words in his mind and repeating them. Something was blocking his throat. He kissed Draco's cheek.

"Thank you," he murmured.

Draco looked up at him with weary gray eyes, and as their gazes locked, Harry felt his heart fill slowly with warm affection. And as Draco leaned towards him and their lips met, soft and sweet, Harry let himself relax and fade into the warmth of Draco's skin against his, into the solidity of Draco's arm around his back, and into the clear, beautiful shade of Draco's eyes.

For a long time they held each other, saying nothing, letting the soft meeting of their mouths and the slight brushes of fingers on skin do the talking for them. And as they both relaxed completely, closed their eyes, and allowed themselves to succumb to sleep, Harry knew he'd never been happier.

He was alive, and Lord Voldemort was dead. The future was wide open for him, and for all those who had survived. They were free to live out their lives, with nothing to get in the way. The sudden freedom was inviting, but it was also intimidating.

Harry opened his eyes and turned his head slightly to look at Draco. The other boy's eyes were closed, his fingers were threaded through Harry's and resting between them, his breathing and his heartbeat were slow and steady.

_I don't think any of us could ever have a perfect future, _Harry thought sleepily, letting his eyes close. _But if I have him by my side, I know we'll make it through anything._


End file.
